^, 


Sj  ^.    ^   *l3 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^ 


.% 


% 


w 


1.0 


I.I 


t^m    125 
la  I4J   |22 

iM    12.0 


lU 


IL25  III  1.4 


6" 


I 


1.6 


Hiotographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


73  WfBST  MAIN  STRUT 

W&t<'^7IR,N.Y.  M5«0 

(716)  •73-4503 


\ 


# 


<^ 


'<^ 


.^ 


<!f. 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  I^Aicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiq jas 


iV 


mm 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  at  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  ace  checked  below. 


D 


D 

D 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagte 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurte  et/ou  pellicui^e 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gAographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I     I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
RellA  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  caube  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrie  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutiies 
lors  d'une  restauratlon  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
male,  lorsque  ceie  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  AtA  filmAes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppltmentaires; 


L'institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  4t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  filmege 
sont  indiquto  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 

0 

n 
0 

D 
D 
D 

n 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagAes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurAes  et/ou  pellicultes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dtcolortes,  tachettes  ou  piqutes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d^tachtes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  InAgaie  de  I'Impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppKmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mitlon  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  ref limed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  imege/ 
Les  pages  totaloment  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  At*  fllmtes  A  nouveau  de  fapon  h 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Th 
to 


Th 
po 
ot 
filr 


Or 
be 
th( 
sio 

OtI 

fin 
sio 
or 


Th 
sh 
Til 
w» 

Mi 
dif 
en 
be( 

rig 
rec 
mi 


This  item  <s  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous 

10X                           14X                           18X                          22X 

26X 

aox 

7 

12X 

16X 

aox 

a4x 

28X 

32X 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exempiaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  h  la 
gAn6rosit6  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibiiify 
ot  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetA  de  l'exempiaire  f  ilmi,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  In  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  witli  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  Illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  Illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  orlginaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  fiimts  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  solt  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  solt  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
orlginaux  sont  filmto  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premiAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  u:ie  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifle  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifle  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  In  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
fllmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cllchA,  II  est  film*  A  partir 
de  I'angle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
lllustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

i* , 


B^'^„ 


..»»■ 


"*:■ 


a 


I 


THE 


HISTORICAL  READER, 


DESIGNED  FOR  THE  USE  OF 


SCHOOLS  AND  FAMILIES. 


ON-  A  VSW  PXiAN. 


BY  REV.  J.  L.  BLAKE,  A.  M. 

ilftiit«<«r  c/  St.  Matthev3*a  Churchy  and  Principal  of  a  Lii$rarff 

Seminary,  Boston. 


prove 


Histoiy  serves  to  amuse  the  imagination ;  to  interest  the  piuwions  ;  to  im 
e  the  understanding ;  and  to  strengthen  the  sentiments  of  virtue  and  piety.*' 


STEREOTYPE  EDITION. 


':n 


PUBLISHED  BY  HORATIO  HILL  A  CC 

BOSTON  :    RICHARDSON,   hOKD,  k  HOLBROOK  ;     CARTER 

AND  HENDEE,  AND  LINCOLN  &  EDMANUS. 

NEW-YORK  :  N.  &  J.  WHITE,  AND  COLLINS  AND  HAFr:AY. 

PHILADELPHIA  :  JOHN  GRIGG.  AND  TOWAR  AND  HOGAN. 

PORTLAND  :  SAMUEL  COLMAN. 


I*- 


DISTRICT  OP  MASSACHUSETTS  :— to  wit. 

OISTRIOT   clerk's   OFFICiX. 

Bs  IT  xuBVEHBERKD,  That  on  the  third  day  of  November, 
A'  D.  18S5,  and  in  the  fiftieth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the 
United  States  of  America,  John  Lauris  Blake,  of  the  said  District, 
hath  deposited  in  this  office,  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  ho 
elaims  as  Proprietor,  in  the  words  following,  viz. 

**  The  Historical  Reader,  designed  for  the  use  of  Schools  and  Fami- 
lies .  On  a  new  plan.  By  Rev.  J.  L.  Blake,  A.  M.  Minister  of  St. 
Matthew's  Church,  and  Principal  of  a  Literary  Seminary,  Bestoiu 
'*  Histoiy  serves  to  amuse  the  miaeination ;  to  interest  the  passions; 
to  inq>rove  the  nnderstanding ;  and  to  strengthen  the  sentiments  of 
virtue  and  piety." 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  en- 
titled, "  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the 
copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books  to  the  Authors  and  Propietors  of 
such  copies  during  the  times  therein  mentioned :" — and  also  to  an 
Act,  entitled.  An  Act  supplementary  to  an  act,  entitled,  "  An  Act  for 
the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps, 
Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  Authors  and  Proprietors  of  such  copies, 
during  the  times  therein  mentioned ;  and  extending  Uie  benefits  there- 
of to  Uie  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etching  historical  and 
other  prints." 

«0.W.  DAVIS,  \''''"'^£:^^^'<f 


PREFACE. 


* 

Thb  object  of  this  volume  is  to  enable  young  persons,  when  Icarp- 
ing  to  read  at  school,  to  acquire  a  knc  {pledge  of  some  of  the  most 
interesting  and  useful  portions  of  history.  A  book  consisting  chie% 
of  extracts  filled  with  real  incidents,  which  equal,  if  not  surpass,  the 
most  successful  efforts  of  imagination  in  romance,  cannot  toil  to  cap- 
tivate the  attention  of  youth ;  and  it  is  moreover  believed,  that  few 
thus  made  acquainted  with  the  extraordinary  events  described  in  the 
Historical  Reader,  will  have  so  I'tttle  curiosity,  were  there  no  other ^ 
motive  to  influence  them,  as  not  to  be  inspired  with  a  strong  desire 
for  further  reading  on  this  important  subject — that  few,  at  least,  will 
have  so  little  curiosity  as  not  to  fill  up  the  chasms,  connecting  together 
the  prominent  parts  here  given. 

It  may  possibly  be  apprehended  by  some,  that  a  book,  like  the 
Historical  Reader,  which  contains  accounts  of  battles,  massacres,  and 
other  tragical  scenes,  will  cause  yonng  personii,  espedalfy,  to  pteee 
a  false  estimate  on  human  oondiiol-*-that,  in  the  mumi  degMe  as  %bey 
thence  fail  duly  to  appreciate  real  goodness,  they  trail  bacOme  the 
less  inclined  tc  it ;  and  in  the  same  degree  as  ithey  beoeioM  ftk&ffiat • 
ized  with  vice,  they  will  view  it  with  ims  abfaorreme,  aoad  wfll  'coii- 
sequently  be  the  less  secured  ogaiBst  temptations  to  it  The  Author 
wooAd  not  deny  that  Uiis  may  sometines  be  the  'oaee ;  tat  he  dvss 
maintain,  that  there  is  no  necessary  tendmcy  in  history,  to  piodace 
these  deleterious  effects  in  the  human  characteir.  Those  who  read 
history,  mast  blame  themselves  or  their  teachers,  if  suitable  moral 
reflections  are  not  made  as  they  pass  along.  If  history  were  studied 
as  it  ought,  the  most  tragical  relations  which  disfigure  its  ensanguin- 
ed pages  might  be  made  conducive  to  our  instruction.  If  we  did  but 
reflect  on  the  tears  of  the  widows  and  orphans,  and  imagine  ourselves 
to  hear  the  groans  of  the  wounded  and  dying ;  if  we  represented  to 
ourselves  the  splendid  and  warlike  appearance  of  an  army,  at  its  first 
taking  the  field,  contrasted  with  the  distressful  spectacle  of  its  shat- 
tered remains,  after  a  hard  fought  battle,  or  a  bloody  eampaign ;  w« 
IT 


IT 


PAEFACE. 


should  be  thunderitruck  at  the  reflection,  and  contemplate  with  hor- 
ror  the  dreadful  effects  of  the  human  passions,  instead  of  being  greatly 
dazzled  with  what  is  called  martial  glory,  and  unduly  inspired  with 
love  for  the  praise  usually  bestowed  on  it  in  history. 

The  names  of  the  eeveral  persons  from  whose  writings  extracts 
have  been  made  in  this  work,  are  not  annexed  to  those  extracts,  be- 
cause in  some  instances  the  same  article  has  been  taken  from  diffy- 
ent  writers,  and  in  other  instances  the  phraseology  has  been  partially 
altered — ^the  former  of  which  renders  the  giving  of  names  inconve> 
niont,  and  the  latter  might  be  considered  an  act  of  injustice,  inasmuch 
as  it  would  ascribe  to  the  individuals  named  what  is  not  properly 
their  own.  The  Author,  however,  aiming  to  let  the  work  possess 
as  much  variety  of  style  as  possibly  consistent  with  his  main  plan, 
has  avoided  introducing  his  own  phraseology,  in  many  instances, 
where  the  extracts  made  are  evidently  susceptible  of  improvement  in 
this  particular.  Indeed,  it  has  been  found  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
to  obtain  that  variety,  connected  with  that  approved  excellency  of 
style,  which  is  practicable  in  a  collection  of  extracts  on  more  mis- 
cellaneous subjects.  The  best  class  of  writers  on  history  is  com|)a- 
ratively  small ;  and  the  subject  admits  also  only  a  comparatively  smaU 
rhetorical  diversificaiion  of  language.  The  Author  nevertheleas  in- 
dulges the  belief,  that  this  compilation  is  not  greatly  wanting  in  that 
variety  and  excellency  of  style  which  are  of  the  first  importance  in 
books  for  the  use  of  schools ;  and,  that  it  will  be  found  well  calculated 
to  inspire  the  youthful  mind  with  a  desire  for  more  extensive  and 
ooniMeted  reacting  on  this  useful  and  interesting  subject  * 

J.  L.  BLAKE. 


■""iimppp 


mm 


wmmn 


INDEX. 


The  Crbatiok 

Paradise    ... 

An  Evening  in  Paradise 

The  Deluge      - 

The  Antediluvians 

1  he  World  contemplated  at  a  Distance 

The  Tower  of  Babel  - 

The  Assyrians 

The  Ruins  of  Babylon 

The  Egyptians 

,The  Egjrptian  Pyramids 

The  Falling  Tower     . 

The  River  iJile 

The  Progress  of  Writing 

The  Trman  War 

Battle  of  Thermopylffi 

Socrates 

The  Social  State 

Battle  of  Marathon    • 

Seneca    > 

Patriotism 

The  Carthaginians 

The  Warrior's  Wreath 

Solomon's  Temple 

Revolt  of*he  Ten  Tribes 

Israel's  Return  from  Egypt 

The  Grateful  Princess 

Julius  Cscsar  and  Pompey 

Battle  of  Pharsalia    > 

The  World  a  Fleeting  Show 

Death  of  Antony 

Death  of  Cleopatra 

The  Captive  Lady 

Death  of  Cuesar 

Catiline's  Conspiracy   - 

The  Tears  of  Judah    • 

Destruction  of  Jeruialem 

Order  of  Nature 

The  Fall  of  Rome 

Rise  of  M ahomotanism 

Empire  of  China 


'If  -vj 


PACS 

9 
19 
15 
ib. 
18 
22 
23 
26 
29 
31 
34 
36 
37 
39 
41 
44 
48 
52 
52 
55 
58 
ib. 
62 
63 
65 
68 
69 
74 
76 
81 
ib. 
85 
88 
89 
92 
95 
w. 
103 
104 
106 
tlO 


VM  UTDEX. 

CharlM  V.  Emperor  of  Gonnany 

Mahomot 

The  Feudal  Syatem    - 

TheCnmdea  - 

ChiTBlxy  ... 

The  Reformation 

Tranalation  of  the  Bible 

The  Dnngeon     • 

PHitriete  uid  Mar^ra 

The  Order  of  Jemiita  - 

An  Evening  Sketch   - 

Martjpi  of  Ariiiorian  > 

Mominff  Hymn 

Si^e  of  Calais 

Uncertainty  of  the  World 
Masiaore  of  Swedish  Nobility 
A  Summer's  Morn     • 
Joan  of  Arc       -         -  ^ 
Discovery  of  America  *^' 
The  Times  of  Old 
Ocpture  of  Montezuma 
Conquest  of  Mexico    • 
Victory     .       -         » 
William  Wallace 
The  Exile 
Kobert  Bruce   • 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots 
Fall  of  Jericho  • 
Charles  I.  of  England 
The  Ruint..     - 
Gun-Powder  Treason 
Diinppointed  Ambition 
The  Aged  Prisoner    - 
The  Inquisition 
Flymouth  Colony 
The  Indian  Princess  - 
The  World  at  Rest     - 
Settlement  of  Rhode  Island 
Settlement  of  Pennsylvania 
Liberty  -         -         - 
Capture  of  Mrs.  Duston 
New  England  Witchcrsft 
Peter  the  Great 
General  Offlethorpe  - 
Benjamin  Franklin     • 
Destruction  of  Tea  at  Boston 
First  American  Congress 
Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill 
Burning  of  Charlestown 
Genera!  Lyman 
Excision  of  Wyoming 
New-Enffland    > 


PAOB 

116 
117 
118 
122 
126 
132 
136 
137 
142 
143 
152. 
153 
156 
157 
161 
162 
169 
170 
175 
178 
181 
188 
196 
197 
201 
ib. 
209 
213 
214 
218 
219 

222 

224 

226 

232 

238 

241 

242 

247 

257 

258 

261 

268 

269 

271 

272 

276 

278 

284 

286 

291 

896 


INDEX 

Tornado  in  Barbadoei 

American  Independence 

French  Bastile    - 

Lafayette  in  the  Dungeons  of  Olmutz 

The  Wise  Choice 

Abdallah  and  Sabat     - 

The  Land  of  Rest 

The  French  Revolution 

Silver  and  Gold 

The  Star  in  the  East    - 

Battle  of  Trafalgar     - 

The  Field  of  Battle    - 

Human  Slavery 

Origin  of  African  Slavery    - 

The  Negro's  Complaint 

William  Tell    - 

Battle  of  Erie    - 

Surrender  of  Quebec  • 

Alexander  Selkirk 

Bonap&rte's  Campaign  in  Russia 

Burning  of  Moscow    ' 

The  Kremlin  of  Moscow 

Battle  of  New-Orleans 

The  Miseries  of  War    - 

The  Historian's  Reflections 

The  Common  Lot 

Address  to  the  Deity    • 


▼11 

WAOM 

998 
300 
301 
303 
310 
311 
313 
ib. 
314 
318 
319 
387 
328 
331 
336 
338 
340 
345 
351 
353 
355 
366 

971 


li 


If 


« 


ORDER  OF  THE  PLATES. 

Vmted  States  Capitol,  to  face  the  Titk  Page. 
Tower  of  Babelf    .....       page 

Ancient    Pyramids,     -        .        - 
SoerateSf       ------ 

Solomon's  Temple^  .  .  .  • 
Hegira,  Flight  of  McJiomet,  -  -  - 
First  Landing  of  Columbus,  -  -  - 
William  Wallace  and  the  two  Friars,  - 
Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth,  - 
Roger  Williams  crossing  the  PawtucJcet  River, 
Destruction  of  Tea  in  Boston  Harbor,  - 
TtO, 


If 


•I 


23 

34 

48 

63 

106 

176 

197 

232 

244 

272 

338 


'>"J 


■if 


11 

ill 


THB 


HISTORICAL  READER. 


THE  CREATION. 

1.  THE  creation  of  the  world  is  the  first  transaction,  wkh 
which  we  are  presented  by  history,  and  is  the  most  truly 
sublime  and  glorious,  that  imagination  can  co:iceive.  But 
of  this  stupendous  event,  no  particular^  ire  recorded  calcu- 
lated only  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity — t  seems  to  have  been 
the  great,  if  not  the  only  object  of  t  te  inspire'^  penman,  to 
make  known  the  importaiit  truth,  that  the;  heavens  and  the 
ear*^    /ere  created  by  the  immediate  pow:r  of  God. 

2.  The  earth,  subsequent  to  its  cr'^ati&n,  was  a  fluid,  dark, 
and  shapeless  mass  of  matter  ; 

The  vast  immeasurable  abyss 
Outrageous  as  a  sea,  dark,  wasteful,  wild, 
Up  from  the  bottom  turn'd  by  furious  winds 
And  surging  waves,  as  mountains,  to  assault 
Heav'n*s  height,  and  with  the  centre  mix  the  pole. 
But  at  the  sovereign  command  of  the  Almighty,  the  cheer- 
ful light  appeared ;  the  firmament  expanded,  to  divide  the 
upper  from  the  lower  waters ;  the  congregated  floods  retired 
to  their  destined  beds,  and  the  dry  land  was  crowned  with  a 
rich  profusion  of  herbage,  fruits,  and  flowers. 

3.  These  great  occurrences,  having  occupied  the  three 
first  days,  the  succeeding  one  was  devoted  to  an  illumination 
of  the  newly  created  globe— K)n  the  fourth  day,  the  face  of 
heaven  was  decorated  with  myriads  of  stars,  and  the  greater 
luminaries  were  so  disposed,  as  to  distinguish  between  day 
and  night,  and  to  divide  the  seasons  of  the  year. 

What  is  the  first  event  with  which  history  preseirtt  vm  ?-^Have  we 
any  particular  account  of  the  creation  of  the  wortt  ?— What  ob^cf 
had  the  inspired  penman  ekieflif  in  view,  when  writing  the  historj  «if 
the  creation  ? 


^^nmmt^fH-i  m'v'y 


10 


THE  CREATION. 


God  saw  the  light  was  good ; 

And  ight  from  darkness  by  the  hemisphere 

Divided  ;  light  the  day  and  darkness  night 

He  nam'^d.    Thus  was  the  first  day  ev'n  and  morn  ; 

Nor  past  uncelebrated,  nor  unsung 
#      By  the  celestial  quires,  when  orient  light 

Exhaling  first  from  darkness  they  beheld  ; 

Birth-day  of  heav'n  and  earth ;  with  joy  and  shout 

The  hollow  universal  orb  they  fill'd, 
-  And  touched  their  golden  harps,  and  hymning  praisM 

God  and  his  works. 
4l  The  waters  were  then  replenished  with  an  abundant 
variety  offish  ;  the  odoriferous  air  was  fanned  by  the  pinions 
of  innumerable  birds ;  the  verdant  meads  were  stocked  with 
cattle  ;  and  every  part  of  the  earth  was  inhabited  by  its  ap- 
propriate tribes.  To  complete,  and  truly  to  excel  the  whole, 
on  the  sixth  day,  God  created  man  of  the  dust  of  the  ground ; 
and  breathing  into  his  body  the  breath  of  life,  or  immortali- 
ty, caused  him  to  become  a  living  soul.  Shortly  subsequent 
to  his  own  creation,  Adam  was  thrown  into  a  deep  sleep,  dur- 
i|Org  which  the  Almighty  took  from  his  side  a  rib,  formed  it 
Into  the  body  of  a  woman,  and  endued  her  also  with  life  and 
immortality. 

-5,  <Now  heav'n  in  all  her  glory  shone,  and  roll'd 
Helt Wtions,  as  the  great  first  Mover^s  hand 
First  wheelM  their  course  :  earth  in  her  rich  attire 
Consummate  lovely  smil'd  ;  air,  water,  earth, 
By  fowl,  fish,  beast,  was  flown,  was  swum,  was  walk'd 
Frequent ;  and  of  the  sixth  day  yet  remained  ; 
There  wanted  yet  the  master-work,  the  end. 
Of  all  yet  done  ;  a  creature  who,  not  prone 
And  brute  as  other  creatures,  but  endued 
With  sanctity  of  reason,  might  erect 
His  stature,  and  upright  with  front  serene 
Govern  the  rest,  self-knowing,  and  from  thence 
Magnanimous  to  correspond  with  heav'n, 

,   But  grateful  to  acknowledge  whence  his  good 
Descends,  thither  with  heart  and  voice  nj^  eyes. 
Devoted  in  devotion,  to  adore 
And  worship  God  supreme,  who  made  him  chief 
Of  all  his  works. 

6.   IV  hen  Adam  first  beheld  the  fair  partner  of  his  tife, 


fmaim 


THE  CREATION. 


11 


finding  her  of  his  own  likeness  and  complexion,  he  was  struck 
with  a  secret  sympathy,  and  exclaimed  with  rapture,  This  is 
nmo  hone  of  my  hone  and  flesh  of  my  flesh.  He  easily  fore- 
saw, that  the  love  and  union  which  were  now  to  take  place 
between  them,  were  to  be  lasting.  The  divine  hand  which 
conducted  the  woman  to  \dam,  did  it  in  the  light  of  a  ma- 
trimonial father  ;  and  having  joined  them  together,  he  pro- 
nounced upon  them  a  benediction,  intimating,  that  they 
might  live  to  see  the  earth  replenished  with  a  numerous  pro- 
geny. 

7.  Thrice  happy  man. 

And  sons  of  men,  whom  God  hath  thus  advanced, 

Created  in  his  image,  there  to  dwell 

And  worship  him,  and  in  reward  to  rule 

Over  his  works,  on  earth,  in  sea,  or  air. 

And  multiply  a  race  of  worsliippers 

Holy  and  just :  thrice  happy  if  they  know 

Their  happiness,  and  persevere  upright. 
8.  Thus,  by  the  creative  influence  of  the  Eternal  Spirit, 
were  the  heavens  and  the  earth  finished  in  the  spaca  of  six 
days — so  admirably  finished — an  unformecT  chaos  changed 
into  a  system  of  perfect  order  and  beauty — ^that  the  adorable 
Architect  himself  pronounced  it  very  goodj  and  cUl  the  sons 
of  God  shouted  for  joy. 

9.  The  Creator  from  his  work 
^    Desisting,  though  unwearied,  up  retumM, 
Up  to  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns  his  high  abode. 
Thence  to  behold  this  new  created  world 
Th*  addition  of  his  empire,  how  it  show'd 
In  prospect  from  his  throne,  how  good,  how  fair. 
Answering  his  great  idea.    Up  he  rode 
Follow*d  with  acclamation  and  the  Bound 
Symphonious  of  ten  thousand  harps  that  tun*d 
Angelic  harmonies :  the  earth,  the  air 
Resounded, 

The  heay'ns  and  all  the  consteUations  rung, 
The  planets  in  their  station  listening  stood,  ^ 

Wliilc  the  bright  pomp  ascended  jubilant 

10.  According  to  the  Bible,  or  Hebrew  chronology,  the 
creation  of  the  world  it  plaoed  in  the  year  4004  before  the 

What  if  th«  ohroBologj  «f  the  craalion  •£  the  world  ? 


■■i 


12 


PARADISE. 


Christian  era.  The  Chinese,  Hindoos,  and  Egyptians,  hav€ 
made  pretensions  to  a  much  earlier  origin  ;  but  these  pre- 
tensions are  supported  by  no  decisive  historic  documents, 
and  must  therefore  be  attributed  to  national  vanity,  which 
prompts  every  people  to  trace  back  their  origin  into  the  re- 
motest antiquity,  in  order  to  give  additional  eclat  to  their 
nation. 


rll 


PARADISE. 

1.  To  facilitate  the  intended  happiness  of  our  first  pa- 
rents, the  Almighty  Creator  had  provided  for  their  residence 
a  most  delightful  spot,  called  Eden.  It  was  watered  by  four 
rivers,  and  from  its  natural  fertility  and  the  richness  and  va- 
riety of  its  productions,  it  was  fitly  called  a  Garden.  Among 
its  vegetable  productions,  were  two  remarkable  Trees,  one 
called  the  Tree  of  Life,  and  the  other  the  Tree  of  Know- 
ledge, tt  is  supposed,  that  the  first  of  these  trees  communi- 
cated immortal it){, to  all  who  should  eat  of  it ;  or  that  it  fur- 
nished a  sovereign  remedy  against  all  the  evils  incident  to 
the  life  of  man  ;  and  the  latter  was  to  enable  persons  to  dis- 
tinguish between  Good  and  Evil. 

2.  Into  this  earthly  Paradise  did  the  Almighty  conduct 
Adam  and  Eve,  giving  them  orders  to  take  care  of  the  garden, 
and  to  superintend  the  plants.  He  granted  them  permission 
to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  every  tree,  except  of  the  Tree  of 
Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil,  This  he  strictly  charged 
them  not  even  to  touch,  on  the  penalty  of  incurring  his  dis- 
pleasure, and  thereby  entailing  upon  themselves  and  their 
descendants,  mortality,  disease,  and  death.  With  this  small 
restraint,  God  left  them  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  where  every 
thing  was  pleasing  to  the  sight,  and  accommodated  to  their 
mutual  enjoyment. 

3.  Thus  fixed  in  the  most  beautiful  situation,  possessed  of 
innocence,  devoid  of  guilt,  and  free  from  care,  the  happiness 

of  our  first  parents  seemed  complete——* 

'■■■>.     I  ■  I  I  I  I         II  II   II    'I    -  - 

Have  any  nations  pretended  to  an  origin  more  remote  than  that 
given  to  the  creation  of  the  world  bV  tho  chronology  of  the  Bible  ? 
What  was  the  name  of  the  garden  in  which  Adam  and  Eve  were 
placed  ? — ^What  two  remarkame  trees  are  named  as  being  in  it  P—Un- 
der  what  prohibition  were  Adam  and  Eve  placed  in  Eden  I 


PARADISE.  19 

Perfection  crownM  with  wond*rous  fram^, 
'    And  peace  and  plenty  smil'd  around ; 
They  felt  no  grief,  they  knew  no  shame, 
But  tasted  heaven  on  earthly  ground. 

But  alas  !  their  bliss  was  transient,  their  innocence  fleet- 
ing, and  short  their  exemption  from  toil  and  care. 

4.  The  devil,  viewing  the  felicity  of  the  first  human  pair 
with  those  painful  sensations  which  are  natural  to  depravity 
of  heart,  determined  to  allure  them  from  their  innocence, 
and  to  stimulate  them  to  the  crime  of  disobedience.  In 
consequence  of  this  infernal  design,  he  began  by  persuading 
Eve,  through  the  agency  of  the  serpent,  to  taste  the  prohi- 
bited tree  of  knowledge,  telling  her,  that  by  so  doing,  both 
herself  and  her  husband  would  become  sensible  of  th6  dif- 
ference between  good  and  evil,  would  acquire  much  addi- 
tional happiness,  and  even  not  be  inferior,  in  point  of  wis- 
dom, to  God  himself. 

5.  Unhappily  the  artifices  of  the  serpent  prevailed.  Eve 
gazed  on  the  tempting  fruit  till  her  appetite  was  inflamed  ; 
its  beautiful  hue  made  her  fancy  it  a  most  delicious  food  ; 
and,  at  length,  she  sacrificed  her  duty  to  gratify  her  curiosi- 
ty. She  stretched  forth  the  presumptuous  hand,  took  of  the 
baneful  fruit,  and  eat,  to  her  own  destruction. 

She  pluckM,  she  eat ; 


Earth  felt  the  wound,  and  nature,  from  her  seat, 
Sighing  through  all  her  works,  gave  signs  of  woe 
That  all  was  lost. 

6.  Pleased  with  the  taste  of  the  fruit,  and  fancying  herself 
already  in  possession  of  that  additional  happiness  the  serpent 
liad  promised  her,  she  flew  to  Adam,  and  enticed  him  to  piur* 
ticipate  in  her  crime. 

He  scrupled  not  to  eat 

Against  his  better  knowledge ;  not  deceiv'd, 

But  fondly  overcome  with  female  charm. 

Earth  trembled  from  her  entrails,  as  again 

In  pangs,  and  Nature  gave  a  second  groan ; 

Sky  lowerM,  and  muttVing  thunder,  some  sad  dtopi 

Wept  at  completing  of  the  mortal  flin. 

Did  they  comply  with  this  prohibition  ?— What  iadocad  tWm  t» 
violate  the  law  of  God  P 


14 


PARADISE. 


7.  Remorse,  the  natural  consequence  of  guilt,  now  open 
od  their  eyes  to  each  other's  nakedness.  No  longer  shielded 
by  innocence  from  shame,  they  were  mutually  shocked  at 
the  reciprocal  indecency  of  their  own  appearance.  Art  was 
now  substituted  to  conceal  what  their  criminality  rendered 
too  obvious ;  aprons  were  made  of  fig-leaves ;  and  they 
doubtless  highly  applauded  themselves  for  acquiring,  at  the 
expense  of  their  integrity,  the  faculty  of  invention,  to  rc^ 
move  difficulties  which  their  former  simplicity  preventea 
their  perceiving. 

8.  While  they  were  in  a  state  of  innocence,  they  no  sooner 
heard  the  voice  of  God  approach  them,  than  they  ran  with 
ecstasy  to  meet  him,  and  with  humble  joy  to  welcome  his 
gracious  visits  ;  but  now  their  Maker  was  become  a  terror  to 
them,  and  they  a  terror  to  each  other.  Their  consciences 
painted  their  transgression  in  the  blackest  colors,  all  hope 
was  banished,  and  nothing  remained  but  horror  and  despair. 

9.  When,  therefore,  after  their  transgression,  they  heard 
the  voice  of  the  Lord  in  the  garden,  instead  of  running,  with 
cheerfulness  and  joy^  to  meet  him  as  before,  they  flew  to  its 
most  retired  parts,  that  they  might  conceal  themselves  from 
his  sight.  But  the  Almighty  soon  called  them  from  their 
dark  retreat ;  they  were  unable  to  escape  the  knowledge  of 
his  omniscient  eye,  though  covered  with  foliage ;  they  both 
appeared  before  him,  and  acknowledged  their  guilt. 

10.  The  man,  however,  attempted  to  excuse  himself  by 
laying  the  blame  to  the  woman,  and  pleaded  her  persuasions, 
as  the  cause  of  his  criminality.  The  woman  endeavored  to 
remove  the  crime  from  herself  to  the  serpent ;  but  the  Al- 
mighty thought  proper  to  make  all  three  the  objects  of  his 
distributive  justice.  As  the  serpent  had  been  the  original 
cause  of  this  evil,  God  first  passes  sentence  on  him,  which 
was,  that  he  should  ever  after  creep  on  the  ground,  and 
thereby  become  incapable  of  eating  any  food,  except  whai 
was  mingled  with  dust.  The  woman  was  given  to  under- 
stand, that  she  had  entailed  upon  herself  sorrow  and  pain, 
and  subjection  to  her  husband.  The  punishment  of  Adam 
consisted  in  a  life  of  perpetual  toil  and  slavery*  in  order  to 


-»T^ 


What  waa  the  cnnm  prononnced  on  the  serpent  for  his  agency  in 
the  ttpaiiMj  ef  out  tm  parente  ?— ¥niti  wu  the  oune  pronoinbed 
on  Eve  P— On  Adam ' 


■l&k 


THE  DELUGE. 


15 


keep  in  due  subjection  those  passions  and  appetites,  to  gra- 
tify  which  he  had  transgressed  the  divine  command. 

11.  The  awful  decree  being  thus  solemnly  pronounced,  as 
well  on  the  author  of  the  offence,  as  on  the  offenders  them- 
selves, the  Almighty,  to  enhance  their  sense  of  the  crime, 
and  the  tokens  of  his  displeasure,  expelled  the  guilty  pair 
from  the  blissful  regions  of  Paradise,  and  placed,  at  the  east 
end  of  the  garden,  a  guard  of  angels,,  not  only  to  prevent 
their  return,  but  to  secure  the  forbidden  fruit,  in  future,  from 
the  unhallowed  hands  of  polluted  mankind. 

12.  Thus,  by  this  original  pollution,  fell  our  6rst  parents, 
who,  from  the  happiest  condition  that  can  be  conceived, 
plunged  themselves  into  a  state  of  wretchedness,  and  there- 
by entailed  misery  on  their  descendants. 

They  eat  the  apple,  it  is  true  ; 
We  taste  the  wormwood  and  the  gall ; 

And  to  these  distant  ages  rue 
The  dire  effects  of  Adam'^  fall. 


AN  EVENING  IN  PAHADISE. 

Now  came  still  evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 
Had,  in  her  sober  livery,  1(11  things  clad ; 
Silence  accompanied ;  for  beast  and  bird, 
They  to  their  grassy  couch,  these  to  their  nests 
Were  sunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale ;  • 
She  all  night  long  her  amorous  descant  sung ; 
Silence  was  pleased.    Now  glow'd  the  firmamen 
With  living  sapphires — Hesperus,  that  led 
The  starry  host,  rode  brightest ;  till  the  moon, 
Rising  in  clouded  majesty, '   length, 
Apparent  queen,  unveilM  her  peerless  light. 
And  o*er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw. 


%' 


THE  DELUGE. 

1.  The  wickedness   of  mankind  had  rapidly  increased 
Were  they  permitted  to  remain  in  Paradise  P—How  were  tlM9 


orevented  from  returning  into  it  I 


2+ 


16 


THE  DELUGE. 


•  y 


[ 
u 


'I 


with  the  incriasing  population,  and  the  earth  was  literally 
filled  with  violence  ;  yet  the  forbearance  of  God  was  conti- 
nued towards  them,  and  he  mercifully  resolved  to  grant  them 
the  space  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  for  repentance ; 
during  which  time,  he  declared  that  his  Spirit  should  strive 
with  man,  in  order  to  awaken  him  to  a  sense  of  his  depra- 
vity, and  eventually  to  reclaim  him  to  the  paths  of  peace  and 
virtue. 

2.  It  is  here  proper  to  remark,  that  notwithstanding  the 
general  corruption,  one  man  was  found  perfect  in  his  gene- 
ration, and  walking  humbly  with  his  God.  This  person  was 
Noah,  the  son  of  Lamech,  who  exerted  himself,  on  every  oc- 
casion, to  introduce  a  reformation  both  of  worship  and  con- 
duct ;  and  to  this  end  he  undertook  the  laborious  task  of 
public  admonition,  warning  his  auditors  of  the  fatal  conse- 
quences that  must  result  from  their  enormities.  His  zealous 
counsel  was,  however,  treated  with  disdain,  and  the  deluded 
race  continued  in  the  practice  of  every  vice,  till  God  is  said 
to  have  been  grieved  at  his  heart,  for  the  formation  of  such 
rebellious  and  incorrigible  creatures. 

3.  Finding  all  attempts  to  reclaim  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth  to  be  fruitless — that  they  were  resolved  on  ruin,  the 
Almighty  decreed  an  universal  deluge  that  should  utterly  de- 
stroy them,  together  with  the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  beasts 
of  the  field.  From  this  tremendous  sentence,  Noa,li  and  his 
family  were  excluded.  This  venerable  patriarch,  having 
found  grace  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  was  directed  to  build  a 
certain  vessel  or  ark,  for  the  preservation  of  himself  and 
family,  and  of  such  a  quantity  of  animals  of  every  species, 
as  would  be  suflficient  to  replenish  the  earth  again,  when  the 
threatened  flood  should  subside. 

4.  In  obedience  to  the  divine  command,  Noah  readily  en- 
gaged in  the  work  to  which  he  was  appointed.  With  respect 
to  the  dimensions  of  the  ark,  we  read  in  Scripture,  that  its 
length  was  three  hundred  cubits,  its  breadth  fifty,  and  its 

What  effect  did  the  increasing  population  of  the  antediluvian  world 
have  on  morals  ? — Did  God  resolve  immediately  to  destroy  mankind 
for  their  great  wickedness  ? — How  long  time  did  he  allow  them  for  re- 
pentance and  reformation  ? — ^What  righteous  person  was  there  found, 
at  this  time,  on  earth  ? — Did  God  employ  him  to  reclaim  the  wicked 
inhabitants  ? — Did  they  listen  to  his  admonitions  ? — In  what  way  did 
Goa  resolve  to  destroy  the  old  world  ? — How  were  Noah  and  ma  ft* 
mily  to  be  saved  '' — What  was  the  length  of  the  ark  ? — Its  breadth  ? 


THE  DELUGE. 


17 


height  thirty.  Its  form  was  that  of  an  ohlong  square,  with 
a  fiat  bottom,  and  a  sloping  roof,  elevated  one  cubit  in  the 
middle.  It  consisted  of  three  stories,  each  of  which,  exclud- 
ing the  thickness  of  the  floors,  might  have  been  eighteen 
feet  high,  and  was  divided  into  separate  apartments.  It 
was,  in  all  probability,  well  supplied  with  light  and  air  ;  and 
though  it  had  neither  sails  nor  rudder,  it  was  admirably  con- 
trived for  lying  steadily  upon  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  for 
thus  preserving  the  lives  of  its  various  inhabitants. 

5.  The  appointed  time  of  vengeance  'jeing  come,  and  the 
ark  completed,  Noah  went  on  board,  in  the  year  of  the  world 
1656,  with  his  wife,  his  sons,  and  his  daughters-in-law. 
taking  with  him  all  kinds  of  beasts,  birds,  and  reptUes,  by 
pairs  and  by  sevens,  as  he  was  expressly  commanded ;  while 
the  rest  of  mankind,  regardless  of  his  repeated  warnings, 
continued  to  indulge  in  luxury  and  dissipation,  till  the  flood 
came  and  overwhelmed  them  with  a  swift  destruction  ;  for  in 
the  self-same  day,  were  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  broken 
up,  the  windows  of  hea*en  were  opened,  and  the  inundating 
torrents  began  to  fall,  which  continued  without  intermission 
for  forty  days  and  forty  nights.  The  waters  also  increased 
gradually  during  the  space  of  five  months,  when  they  rose 
to  the  elevation  of  twenty-seven  feet  above  the  summits  of 
the  highest  mountains. 

6.  The  irrevocable  decree  of  heaven  having  been  thus 
awfully  accomplished,  a  wind  was  caused  to  pass  over  the 
earth,  in  consequence  of  which  the  watei's  began  to  assuage ; 
and  on  the  first  day  of  their  decrease,  they  sunk  so  consider- 
ably, that  the  ark  rested  on  the  mountains  of  Ararat.  This 
happened  on  the  seventeenth  day  of  the  seventh  month,  or 
the  sixth  of  May  ;  and  by  the  first  day  of  the  tenth  month, 
answering  to  our  nineteenth  of  July,  the  tops  of  the  neigh- 
boring hills  began  to  appear. 

7.  Towards  the  end  of  the  ensuing  month,  Noah  opened 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  ark,  and  sent  forth  a  raven,  which 
dew  to  and  fro  till  the  earth  was  dry,  but  afforded  him  no 


What  was  its  height  ? — ^What  was  the  form  of  the  ark  which  God 
directed  him  to  build  ? — In  what  year  of  the  world  did  Noah  go  on 
hoard  the  ark  ? — How  long  did  the  incessant  rains  continue  which 
caused  the  deluge  ? — For  what  length  of  time  did  the  waters  continue 
to  rise  ? — How  nigh  did  they  rise  above  the  summits  of  the  highest 
mountains  ?~  Where  ''lid  the  ark  rest  when  the  waters  subsided  ? 


;l 


18 


THE  ANTEDILUVIANS. 


satisfactory  intelligence ;  he,  therefore^et  out  a  dove  three 
saccessive  times,  dlowing  seven  days  to  elapse  between  each 
excursion^  The  first  time  she  returned  quickly,  having 
found  no  spot  sufficiently  firm  and  dry  to  afford  a  resting 
place ;  the  second  time,  she  came  back  in  the  evening,  bring- 
ing an  olive  branch  in  her  mouth,  as  a  proof  that  the  flood  was 
greatly  abated  ;  and  the  third  time  she  returned  no  more. 

^(^n  the  first  day  of  the  first  month,  or  the  twenty-third 
of  October|(lhe  patriarclhfwho  was  now  in  the  six  hundred 
and  first  year  of  his  agou'emovcd  the  covering  of  his  vessel, 
in  order  to  take  a  view  of  the  surrounding  scenery,  and  dis- 
covered that  the  surface  of  the  earth  was  perfectly  free  from 
water ;  he  continued,  however,  in  the  arl^till  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  the  second  month,  or  the  eighteenth  of  Decem- 
berf^hen  he  came  forth,  in  pursuance  of  the  divine  com- 
mand, together  with  his  wife,  his  family,  and  every  living 
creature  which  had  been  intrusted  to  his  care,  for  one  year 
and  ten  days,  according  to  the  antediluvian  computation,  or 
during  the  space  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  of  our 
present  time. 


It  ■ 

8'' 


li 


I  r 


THE  laiTEDILUVIANS. 

l.'^HE  history  of  the  antediluvians,  particularly  with  re- 
gard to  their  religion,  policy,  arts,  and  sciences^  would  cer- 
tainly be  considered  as  a  subject  of  great  value,  were  it  pos- 
sible to  expatiate  upon  these  points  with  strict  regard  to 
truth ;  but  as  the  sacrod  volume  affords  but  little  whereon 
we  might  ground  our  assertions,  and  the  page  of  profane  his- 
tory is  clouded  with  fable,  we  must  candidly  acknowledge 
that  our  remarks  are  founded  chiefly  upon  conjecture. 

2d^iVith  respect  to  the  religious  rites  of  the  primeval  race 
of  men  we  can  only  venture  to  affirm^hat  they  offered  sa- 
crifices, both  of  animals,  and  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth ;  yet 
some  writers  have  attempted  to  prove  that  all  the  patriarchs, 
from  Adam,  had  certain  times  and  places  set  apart  for  the 

In  what  manner  did  Noah  ascertain  when  the  earth  had  become  suffi- 
ciently dry  to  leave  the  ark  ? — At  what  season  of  the  year  did  ho  leave 
it  ?— What  was  his  age  on  leaving  it  ? — How  long  did  Noah  continue  in 
the  ark  ? — Is  much  known  of  the  religion,  policy,  arts  and  sciences  of 
Uie  antediluvians  ? — What  can  be  affirmed  of  their  religious  rites .' 


THE  ANTEDILUVIANS. 


19 


celebration  of  divine  worship,  and  devoted  a  portion  of  their 
property  to  the  maintenance  of  the  priests.  ' 

3.  Their  politics  and  civil  constitutions  are  hid  in  impene- 
trable darkness,  and  consequently  afford  no  foundation  even 
for  conjecture.  ^It  is  however  probable,  that  the  patriarchal 
form  of  government  was  set  aside  by  tyranny  and  oppression ; 
and  that  this  change  took  place  much  sooner  among  the  de- 
scendants of  Cain  than  those  of  Setj|  We  also  imagine, 
that  their  communities  were  but  few,  and  consisted  of  vast 
numbers  of  people  previous  to  the  union  of  the  families  of 
Seth  and  Cain,  and  that  all  mankind,  subsequent  to  that  im- 
prudent junction,  constituted  but  one  great  nation,  divided 
into  several  disorderly  associations,  and  living  in  a  state 
of  anarchy,  which  indisputablv  tended  to  contaminate  the 
thoughtless  race  with  an  univeirt,,  i  depravity  of  manners. 

4.  Even  with  regard  to  their  arts  and  scieifces,  but  little  can 
be  said ;  and  they  appear  rather  to  have  devoted  their  time, 
to  luxury  and  dissipation,  than  to  useful  discoveries  or  men- 
tal improvement.  €The  last  generation  of  Cain's  line  found 
out  the  art  of  working  metal  ;f)a,nd  music  seems  to  have  been 
invented  about  the  same  time^  Some  have  supposed  that  the 
science  of  astronomy  was  cultivated  by  the  antediluvians ; 
but  this  opinion  has  no  solid  foundation  ; — and  the  erroneous 
opinions  of  those  who  have  attributed  various  books  to  the 
patriarchs,  Adam,  Seth^  and  Enos,  are  too  absurd  to  merit  a 
serious  refutation. 

5.f  The  antediluvian  world  is  supposed  to  have  been  ex- 
ceedingly different  from  that  which  we  now  inhabit|^nd  to 
have  been  stocked  with  a  greater  number  of  inhabitants  than 
the  present  earth  is  capable  of  containing  ^nd  indeed  this 
idea  seems  tolerably  well  founded,  when  we  consider  the 
lurprising  length  of  men's  lives  previous  to  the  deluge,  and 
the  numerous  generations  that  were  then  contemporary. 

6.  Various  causes  have  been  assigned  by  different  authors 
for  this  longevity  ;  some  imputing  it  to  the  sobriety  of  thb- 
antediluvians,!  and  the  extreme  simplicity  of  their  dietr-~ 


What  is  probable  as  to  their  government  ? — ^When  did  they  attain 
to  the  art  of  working  metal  ? — ^Did  they  become  acquainted  with  mi> 
aic,  and  when  ? — Is  it  supposed  that  the  antediluvian  world  was  di^ 
ferent  from  what  the  world  now  is  ? — What  circumstance  renders  this 
supposition  probable  ? — What  three  reasons  hare  been  assigned  for 
the  longevity  of  the  antediluvians  ? 


20 


THE  ANTEDILUVIANS. 


others  supposing  that  it  resuhed  from  the  peculiar  excellence 
of  the  plants,  herbs,  and  frnits,Jthat  were  first  appointed  for 
the  subsistence  of  the  human  race — and  others  asserting  that 
it  was  the  natural  consequence  of  a  strong  and  vigorous  con- 
stitution. 

7.  Each  of  these  opinions  may  be  considered  as  partah 
ing  of  the  truth,  though,  in  reality,  they  will  not  bear  the 
test  of  strict  examination ;  for  if  we  readily  admit  the  idea, 
ihal  wmc,  or  even  many,  of  the  antediluvians  were  remark- 
able on  account  of  their  temperance  and  simplicity,  we  must 
of  necessity  acknowledge,  that  the  majority  of  them  were 
strangers  to  these  virtues,  and  especially  at  a  time  when  they 
are  said  to  have  been  eating  and  drinking,  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage,  till  the  flood  came  and  swallowed  them  up. 

8.  With  respect  to  the  wholesome  or  nutritious  virtues  of 
the  vegetable  world,  it  may  be  justly  supposed  that  they  were 
less  degenerated  in  those  days  than  in  the  present — yet,  it 
must  at  the  same  time  be  remembered,  that  sin  had  entered 
into  the  world  ;  God  had  inflicted  a  curse  upon  the  grouna 
for  man's  sake  ;  and  agricultural  labor  was  even  then  as  re- 
quisite as  it  is  now.  We  are  not  therefore  to  imagine  that 
the  natural  world  exhibited  that  brilliancy  of  beauty,  that 
abundant  fertility,  and  that  unspotted  purity,  at  the  time  to 
which  we  advert,  that  literally  glowed  upon  the  wholBf  and 
pervaded  each  constituent  part,  when  first  created — when 
man,  the  image  of  his  Creator,  roved  unconscious  of  sin  or 
shame,  amidst  the  matchless  delights  of  Eden  ;  rejoiced  in 
the  friendship  of  his  God  ;  and  viewed  with  guileless  raptures 
the  subjugated  tribes  of  inferior  animals.  Then,  indeed,  we 
may  naturally  suppose,  that  every  pendent  fruit  which  deco- 
rated the  verdant  branches,  or  swept  the  embroidered  ground, 
was  indeed  replete  with  flavor  and  nutrition  ;  that  every  blade 
of  grass  possessed  inherent  virtues  ;  and  that  every  plant  of 
the  earth  was,  in  the  language  of  its  Creator,  very  good. 
But  no  sooner  had  Adam  transgressed  the  divine  command, 
and  forfeited  his  own  innocence,  than  creation  began  to  lan- 
guish beneath  the  influence  of  the  curse  ;  and  many  of  the 
plants  became  useless,  while  others  were  rendered  disgusting 


What  objection  is  there  to  its  being  owing  to  their  temperance  oai 
nmpUcity  f — What  objection  is  there  to  its  being  caused  by  the  f" 
tuhar  excellence  of  their  plants,  kerbs,  and  fruits  ? 


THE  ANTEDILUVIANS. 


91 


con- 


iee  audi 


and  poisonous.    Consequently  the  longevity  of  the  antedi- 
luvians cannot  he  justly  attributed  to  the  second  cause  given. 

9.  As  to  the  opinion,  tliat  the  long  lives  of  those  men  were 
but  natural  consequences  of  the  peculiar  strength  of  their 
stamina,  or  first  principles  of  their  bodily  constitutions,  we 
are  willing  to  receive  it  as  a  concurrent  though  not  an  adc- 
qucUe  cause ;  for  Shem,  who  received  his  birth  before  the 
deluge,  and  possessed  all  the  virtues  of  the  antediluvian  con- 
Htitution,  fell  short  of  the  age  of  his  forefathers  by  three 
hundred  years,  because  the  greatest  part  of  his  life  was  pass- 
ed after  his  egression  from  the  ark. 

10.  From  these  considerations,  therefore,  we  are  inclined 
to  impute  this  longevity  rather  to  the  salubrious  constitution 
of  the  antediluvian  air,  than  to  any  other  cause  ;  and  upon 
the  supposition  that  this  air  became  contaminated  and  un- 
wholesome after  the  flood,  it  will  appear  consistent  that  the 
pristine  crasis  of  the  human  body  should  have  been  gradu- 
ally broken  ;  and  that  the  life  of  man  sh6uld  consequently 
have  been  shortened,  in  successive  ages,  to  the  present  com- 
mon standard. 

11.  Whether  men  were  permitted  to  regale  on  the  flesh 
of  animals  before  the  flood,  is  a  question  that  has  been  long 
and  frequently  controverted.  Tliose  who  imagine  it  was  un- 
lawful before  that  period,  found  tlieir  opinion  upon  God's  as- 
signing vegetables  for  food  to  man  and  beasts  at  the  creation ; 
and  upon  the  express  permission  which  Noah  received,  to  eat 
flesh  after  the  deluge  ; — and  those  who  entertain  a  contrary 
opinion,  imagine  that  animal  food  was  included  in  the  ge- 
neral grant  of  dominion  given  to  Adam,  over  the  fish  of  the 
sea,  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  every  living  thing  that  moved- 
upon  the  earth ;  and  indeed  this  supposition  receives  a  great 
degree  of  strength  from  the  fact,  that  beasts  were  divided 
into  clean  and  unclean  before  the  flood ;  and  that  animals 
were  then  also  sacrificed  to  the  Deity. 

12.  With  regard  to  commerce,  it  was,  in  all  probability, 
carried  on  with  greater  facility  before  the  flood,  than  after- 

What  objection  to  the  supposition  of  its  being  caused  bv  natural 
rigor  of  constitution  ? — If  neither  of  these  can  be  considered  an 
adequate  cause  of  their  longevity,  to  what  more  probable  cause  oea 
we  assign  it? — ^Were  men  permitted  before  the  flood  to  feed  tn 
the  flesh  of  animals  ? — ^What  reason  can  bo  given  against  it  ?— What 
reason  can  be  given  in  favor  of  the  suppoRitioti  ^ 


Jl 


THE  WORLD  CONTEMPLATED. 


wards ;  as  there  was  but  one  languagp  in  the  world.  Yet  it 
is  evident  they  had  no  idea  of  navigation,  and  of  extending 
their  trade  to  remote  parts,  by  the  assistance  of  any  kind  of 
vessels ;  or  otherwise  some  families  might  certainly  have  es- 
caped the  flood  besides  the  patriarch  Noah.  Indeed  it  is 
sufficiently  obvious,  that  commerce,  however  it  might  be  con- 
ducted, was  not  as  necessary  at  that  time  as  it  has  been  since, 
not  only  because  the  wants  of  men  have  been  greatly  in- 
creased, in  proportion  to  the  injury  which  the  earth  and  its 
various  productions  received  n'om  the  overwhelming  flood 
that  was  brought  upon  it ;  but  also  because  they  resided  to* 
gether  in  greater  numbers,  and  could  easily  obtain  every 
article  they  desired,  by  bartering  with  their  nearest  neiglv 
bors. 


THE  WORLD  CONTEMPLATED  AT  A 

DISTANCE. 

'Tis  pleasant  through  the  loop-holes  of  retreat 
To  peep  at  such  a  world ;  to  see  the  stir 
Of  the  great  Babel,  and  not  feel  the  crowd ; 
To  hear  the  roar  she  sends  through  all  her  gates 
At  a  safe  distance,  where  the  dying  sound 
Falls  a  soft  murmur  on  th'  uninjur'd  ear. 
Thus  sitting,  and  surveying  thus  at  ease 
The  globe  and  its  concerns,  I  seem  advanc'd 
To  some  secure  and  more  than  mortal  height, 
That  liberates  and  exempts  me  from  them  all. 
It  turns  submitted  to  my  view,  turns  round 
With  all  its  generations ;  I  behold 
The  tumult  and  am  still.    The  sound  of  war 
Has  lost  its  terrors  ere  it  reaches  me ; 
Grieves,  but  alarms  me  not.    I  mourn  the  pride 
And  avarice  that  make  man  a  wolf  w  man ; 
Hear  the  faint  echo  of  those  brazen  throats 
By  which  he  speaks  the  language  of  his  heart, 
And  sigh,  but  never  tremble  at  the  sound. 
He  travels  and  expatiates ;  as  the  bee 

— WW^— ^— ^M^— I    ■■■.-■■■  I    Ml— I     ■       ■    l^^™^—  ■■■■■■       I— — ^M^^.^MI«^iJ— ^— iM^— ^— — — P— » 

Is  it  supposed  that  the  antediluvians  were  acquainted  with  ship 
navigation,  as  we  are  ?— Can  a  particular  reason  be  assigned  against 
the  supposition,  and  what  is  it  ? 


Yet  it 
endinff 
Lind  of 
&ve  e»- 
sd  it  is 
becoi^ 
a  since, 
atly  in- 
and  its 
g  flood 
idedto- 
1  every 

neiglv' 


ith  ship 
agaiiut 


S^*S 


TOWER  OF  BABEL 


In 


THE  TOWER  OF  BABEL. 

Prom  flower  to  flower,  eo  he  from  land  to  land ; 
The  manners,  customs,  policy,  of  all, 
Pay  contribution  to  the  store  he  gleans ; 
He  sucks  intelligence  in  every  clime, 
And  spreads  the  honey  of  his  deep  research 
At  his  return — a  rich  repast  for  me. 
He  travels,  and  I  too.    I  tread  his  deck, 
Ascend  his  topmast,  through  his  peering  eyes 
Discover  countries,  with  a.  kindred  heart 
Suffer  his  woes,  and  share  in  his  escapes ; 
While  fancy,  like  the  finger  of  a  clock, 
Runs  the  great  circuit,  and  is  still  al  home. 


23 


THE  TOWER  OF  BABEL. 


1.  It  is  not,  in  the  least,  to  be  doubted,  that  Noah  and  his 
family,  for  some  years  after  the-  flood,  continued  to  reside  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  mountains  of  Armenia,  where  the 
ark  had  rested.  But  his  descendants,  in  course  of  time, 
having  a  numerous  progeny,  the  greater  part  of  them  quitted 
this  place,  and,  directmg  their  course  eastward,  came  at 
length  to  the  plains  of  Shinar,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Eu- 
phrates. Attracted  by  the  convenience  of  its  situation,  and 
the  natural  fertility  of  the  soil,  thsy  resolved  not  to  proceed 
an3L  further,  but  to  make  this  their  fixed  place  of  residence. 

2.  Having  formed  this  resolution,  in  order  to  render  them- 
selves famous  to  future  generations,  they  determined  to  erect 
a  city,  and  in  the  city  a  building  of  such  stupendous  height 
as  should  be  the  wonder  of  the  world.  Their  principal  mo- 
tives in  doing  this,  were,  it  is  supposed,  to  keep  themselves 
together,  in  one  body,  that,  by  their  mutual  strength  and 
councils,  as  the  world  increased,  they  might  bring  othets 
under  their  subjection,  and  thereby  become  masters  of  the 
universe. 

3.  The  idea  of  the  intended  tower  gave  them  the  most 
singular  satisfaction,  and  the  novelty  of  the  design  induced 


Is  it  supposed  that  Noah  and  his  family  continued  any  time 
the  place  where  the  ark  had  vested  ? — Where  did  they  go,  on  lear- 
ing  this  place  ? — In  what  way  a^d  they  become  determined  to  dis- 
tinguish themselves^  on  settling  in  the  r'"ins  of  Shinar  ? 


mm 


_,.>a  f 


I 


'  ;fi' 


I 

J 


I 


i>: 


a 


THE  TOWER  OF  BABEL. 


them  to  enter  upon  its  construction  with  the  greatest  alacri^ 
ty.  One  inconvenieince,  however,  arose,  of  which  they  were 
not  at  first  apprised,  namely,  there  being  no  stone  in  the 
country  with  which  to  build  it.  But  this  defect  was  soon 
supplied  by  thfe  niEittite  of  the  soil,  which,  being  clayey,  they 
soon  converted  into  bHoks,  and  cemented  them  together 
with  a  pitchy  substance,  called  bitumen,  the  country  produc- 
ing that  artiel^  ih  gir^at  abundance. 

4.  As  the  artiiii&6rB  iir^r^  numerous,  the  work  was  carried 
/on  with  great  Expedition,  iind  in  a  short  time  the  walls  were 
raised  to  a  prodigidQ^  height.  But  the  Almighty  being  dis^ 
satisfied  with  th^l"  ^d^Mili^,  thought  peo^r  to  interpose, 
and  totally  put  an  end  to  their  ambitious  project ;  so  that  the 
first  of  their  vanity  became  tmly  a  monument  of  their  folly 
and  weakness. 

5.  Though  the  d^^feentdctntb  ti*i^6ahVfeJre  at  this  time  ex- 
ceedingly numerous,  yet  they  spoke  the  same  language. — In 
order,  therefore,  to  render  their  undertaking  ineflfecfUal,  and 
to  leissmi  the  t<>Wering  hbpes  <5f  these  aspiring  mortals,  the 
Almighty  formed  'the  retolution  of  confounding  th^  lalti- 
;:{uage.  In  conMequi^tlce  of  thi^,  a  universal  jargoi^  t^Ofck 
pke^,  and  the  different  dialects  caused  such  a  disti&etidn 
of  thought,  thilt,  inculpable  of  understanding  or  making  knoWh 
to  ench  o^er  their  ideas,  they  were  thrown  into  th^  Utmost 
disorder. 

6.  By  thid  slWful  stroke  of  divine  justice,  they  were  not 
Ohly  deprived  of  prosecuting  their  intended  plan,  but  of  the 
greatest  pleasure  a  social  being .  can  enjoy;  namely  mutual 
tOliverse  and  agreeable  intercourse.  We  are  not,  however, 
io  dtippose,  that  each  individual  had  a  peculiar  dialect  or 
kingttagv*)  to  himself;  biit  only  the  several  tribes  or  families, 
which  are  supposed  to  have  been  about  seventy  in  number. 
The^  detaching  themselves  accordihg  to  their  respective 
dialects,  lefl  the  spot,  which,  before  the  consequences  of  their 
"{i^dumption,  they  had  considered  as  the  most  delightful  on 

« 

What  inconvenience  did  they  experience  at  first  in  building  their 
city  and  i6wer  ? — How  did  they  obviate  the  inconvenience  of  not 
having  stones  with  which  to  build  ? — Did  they  commence  their 
d<^t<smt»latM  Work?— Was  Qod  pleased  with  their  design ?~In 
Miat  iray  did  hto  manifest  his  diig[>ieasur«,  and  stop  their  ixrork  ?— > 
fs  it  tupttosed)  that  ih  the  confusion  of  language  on  thiii  occasion, 
tvenr  individual  was  made  to  have  a  dialect  of  his  owiil 


THE  TOWER  OF  BABEL 


earth,  and  took  up  their  temporary  residences  m  such  places 
i\s  they  either  pitched  on  by  choice,  or  were  directed  to  by 
chance. 

7.  Thus  did  the  Almighty  not  only  dofeat  the  designs  of 
those  ambitious  people,  but  likewise  a6complished  his  own, 
by  having  the  world  more  generally  inhabited  than  it  other 
wise  could  have  been.  The  spot  on  which  they  had  begun 
to  erect  their  tower,  was,  from  the  judgment  that  attended  so 
rash  an  undertaking,  called  Babel  (afterwards  Babylon,) 
which,  in  the  Hebrew  tongue,  signifies  confusion. 

8.  The  confusion  of  tongues,  and  dispersion  of  the  family 
of  Noah,  happened  101  years  after  the  flood,  as  is  evident 
from  the  birth  of  Peleg,  the  son  of  Heber  (who  was  the  great- 
grandson  of  Shem,)  and  was  born  in  the  101st  year  after  that 
memorable  period.  He  received  his  name  from  this  singular 
circumstance,  the  word  Pclegy  in  the  Hebrew  language,  sig- 
nifying partition,  or  dispersion, 

9.  The  descendants  of  Noah  being  now  dispersed,  in  pro- 
cess of  time,from  their  great  increase,  they  scattered  themselves 
to  distant  parts  of  the  earth,  and,  according  to  their  respec- 
tive families,  settled  in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Some 
took  up  their  residence  in  Asia ;  some  in  Africa ;  and  others 
in  (Europe.  By  what  means  they  obtained  possession  of  the 
several  countries  they  inhabited,  the  sacred  historian  has  not 
informed  us.  It  is,  however,  natural  to  suppose,  that  their 
respective  situations  did  not  take  place  from  chance,  but  from 
mature  deliberation  ;  and  that  a  proper  assignment  was  made 
of  such  and  such  places,  according  to  the  divisions  and  sub- 
divisions of  the  different  families. 

10.  When  Babel  was  confounded,  and  the  great 
Confederacy  of  projectors  wild  and  vain 
Was,  split  into  diversity  of  tongues,  * 

Then,  as  a  shepherd  separates  his  flock,  • 

These  to  the  upland,  to  the  valley  thofi*»  ' 

God  drave  asunder,  and  assigned  their  lot 


What  good  effects  did  the  Almighty  accomplish  from  this  confiisaon 
of  language  ? — What  is  the  place  called,  where  it  took  plao«  f-— 
At  what  time   was  this  memorable  event? — Are  we  iofuiijifld   in 


what  way  the  descendants  of  Noah  took  possession  of  tho  _, 

countries   they  afterwards  inhabited  ? — Wiiat   is   probable  on  *t*\» 
subject  ? 

at 


26 


THE  ASSYRIANS. 


To  all  the  nations.    Ample  was  the  boon 

He  gave  them,  in  its  distribution  fair 

And  equal ;  and  he  bade  them  dwell  in  peace. 


THE  ASSYRIANS. 


1.  The  Assyrians,  or  Syrians,  inhabited  the  country  which 
was  first  settled  by  Ashur,  a  son  of  Shem,  and  afterwards 
taken  by  Nimrod,  a  grandson  of  Ham.  Assyria  is  now  a 
part  of  Persia.  The  Assyrian  was  one  of  the  four  universal, 
monarchies,  and  was  the  first  empire  that  ever  existed.  Her 
kings  usually  styled  themselves,  by  way  of  eminence,  king 
of  kings ;  and  it  is  probable,  from  the  most  correct  accounts 
of  that  remote  period,  that,  in  power,  they  were  surpassed  by 
none,  and  equalled  by  few,  if  any,  of  the  contemporary  po- 
tentates. 

2.  Nineveh,  the  capital  of  Assyria,  and  Babylon,  the  ca- 
pital of  Babylonia,  a  province  of  Assyria,  were  two  of  the 
most  memorable  cities  of  which  we  have  any  account  in  his- 
tory. Nineveh  was  built  on  the  Tigris,  and  is  supposed  to 
have  contained  no  less  than  a  million  of  inhabitants.  It  was 
surrounded  by  a  wall,  one  hundred  feet  high,  and  so  thick 
that  three  carriages  might  be  driven  abreast  on  the  top 
of  it.  Babylon  was  built  over  the  Euphrates,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  wall  87  feet  in  thickness,  360  feet  in  height, 
and  60  miles  in  circumference.  This  city  was  nearly  square, 
and  contained  one  hundred  brazen  gates,  twenty-five  on  each 
side. 

3.  The  building  of  Nineveh  has  been  ascribed  both  to 
Nimrod  and  Ninus  his  son ;  and,  it  is  probable,  that  the 
former  j)egan,  and  the  latter  completed  it.  It  was  undoubt- 
edly named  in  honor  of  Ninus.     Babylon  is  said  to  have 


Who  first  settled  ancient  Assyria  ? — ^Who  next  took  posseesioii 
of  it  ?  -—Of  what  country  is  it  now  a  part  .''—•What  was  the  political 
importance  of  Assyria  ? — What  title  did  her  kings  assume  ? — What 
two  memorable  cities  did  Assyria  contain  ? — Where  was  Nineveh 
situated  ?-— How  many  inhabitants  did  it  contain  ? — How  was  it  sur- 
rounded?— Where  was  Babylon  situated  ? — What  was  the  height  of 
the  wall  that  surrounded  it  ? — How  large  its  circumference  ?— ^Vhat 
was  its  form  ? — Under  whose  direction  was  Nineveh  built  ? 


THE  ASSYRIANS, 


27 


!)een  built  by  Semiramis,  the  widow  of  Ninus.  After  the 
death  of  her  husband,  she  became  determined  to  eclipse  his 
glory,  by*  building  a  city  that  should  surpass  Nineveh.  Thi« 
she  attempted  in  enlarging  and  rendering  magnificent  the 
city  of  Babylon  ;  and  she  succeeded  so  well  in  the  attempt, 
as  to  have  been  called  by  some  its  founder.  She  is  repre- 
sented to  have  employed,  in  this  vast  enterprise,  two  millions 
of  men.  which  were  collected  out  of  all  the  provinces  of  her 
extensive  empire. 

4.  Nimrod,  as  well  as  Semiramis,  has  been  called  the 
fountler  of  Babylon  ;  but,  it  is  believed  with  confidence,  there 
can  be  little  if  any  doubt  with  the  intelligent  historian,  that 
Babylon  and  Babel  are  the  same.  Its  origin  is  therefore  to 
be  ascribed  to  the  foolish  vanity  of  those  persons  named  in 
Scripture,  who  desired  to  build  a  tower  and  a  city,  that  should 
render  tlieir  memory  immortal.  It  is  probable,  however,  that 
this  ridiculous  design  being  defeated  by  such  an  astonishing 
prodigy  as  none  could  be  the  author  of  but  God  himself,  every 
body  abandoned  the  place,  which  had  given  him  offence ;  and 
that  Nimrod,  in  company  with  his  friends  and  confederates, 
was  the  first  who  afterwards  settled  therein,  and  encompassed  it 
with  walls — beginning,  in  this  place,  the  powerful  empue, 
which  has  excited  the  interest  of  all  succeeding  ages^  and  of 
which  he  was  the  first  chief. 

5.  The  kings  of  Assyria  were  numerous,  which  necessa- 
rily resulted  from  the  long  continuance  of  the  empire ; 
yet  uothing  besides  the  names  of  a  large  part  of  them  is 
transmitted  to  us.  The  reign  of  Sennacherib  may  be  con- 
sidered, on  some  accounts,  the  most  interesting  of  any  wliich 
history  has  preserved.  This  prince's  ambition  and  power 
''cemed  to  threaten  the  neighboring  nations,  with  that  op- 
pression, wliich  nothing  but  the  will  of  God  could  resist 
After  ravaging  Egypt,  he  returned  and  besieged  Jerusaldtai. 
!>ut,  while  encamped  before  that  place,  a  destroying  mtgel,  to 

Who  raised  Babylon  to  its  most  renowned  state  ? — Why  did  Se- 
miramis thus  enlarge  and  adorn  this  city  ? — How  many  persons  is 
she  said  to  have  employed  in  the  work  ? — What  was  the  origin  of 
Babylon  ? — Who  is  supposed  to  have  taken  possession  of  Babel  or 
Babylon,  after  the  confusion  of  language  ? — What  may  be  said  gene- 
rally of  the  Assyrian  kings  ?— Which  one  of  them,  whose  life  and 
reign  are  recorded,  is  deserving  of  particular  notice  ? — What  import- 
ant circumstances  pn,rticularly  distinguished  the  reign  of  Sennache- 
rib? 


38 


THE  ASSYJIIANS. 


lii 


■,f.  ! 


use  the  language  of  Scripture,  in  one  night,  diew  one  hun< 
dred  and  eighty-five  thousand  of  his  army.  He  returned  to 
his  own  country  greatly  chagrined  ;  and  to  divert  the  atten- 
tion of  his  subjects  fronk  this  disgrace,  he  exercises  on  them 
every  species  of  cruelty ;  so  that  his  own  family  became  dis- 
gusted at  his  conduct,  and  shortly  assassinated  him  in  the 
temple,  while  prostrated  before  his  god  Nisroch. 

6.  Few  facts  are  known  of  the  Assyrian  empire  ;  and  sonic 
have  even  doubted,  but  without  reason,  the  existence  of  it. 
But  notwithstanding  the  obscurity  in  which  the  history  of  this 
nation  is  involved,  it  is  generally  believed,  that  the  empire, 
was  founded  about  the  year  1800  of  the  world,  and  con- 
tinued about  fourteen  hundred  years  from  its  foundation — 
or  about  seventeen  hundred,  if  we  reckon  to  the  destruction 
of  Babylon.  The  Assyrian  empire,  however,  did  not  exist  in 
its  zenith  of  power  this  length  of  time ;  for  it  was  at  first, 
like  most  nations,  small,  and  rose  from  that  condition  by  de- 
grees. Besides,  it  did  not  long  retain  the  power  and  political 
importance  which  it  tUUs  acquired.  Intestine  divisions  and 
provincial  apostacies  frequently  weakened  its  strength ;  and, 
finally,  the  Babylonians  and  Medes,  inhabitants  of  two  pro- 
vinces, united  against  and  destroyed  Nineveh,  the  capital,  and 
became  themselves,  in  a  measure,  distinct  and  independent 
nations. 

7.  Babylon,  like  Nineveh,  soon  fell  into  the  hands  of  its 
enemies.  In  the  year  of  the  world  3466,  Cyrus  the  king 
of  Persia,  took  the  city  of  Babylon,  by  turning  the  river  Eu- 
phrates, and  marching  his  troops  through  its  former  channel, 
while  the  people  were  celebrating  a  grand  festival.  From 
this  period,  Babylon  experienced  a  rapid  decay,  till  it  was 
taken  by  Alexander  the  Great,  about  two  hundred  years  af- 
ter. He,  with  a  view  of  making  it  the  seat  of  his  empire, 
had  determined  to*restore  it  to  its  ancient  splendor ;  but  dy- 
ing suddenly,  the  work  ceased.  His  successors  abandoning 
this  proud  capital  for  ever,  it  continued  to  decline,  till  it  be- 


What  was  the  effect  of  his  defeat,  when  attempting  the  teduction 
of  Jerasalem  ? — At  what  time  did  the  Assyrian  empire  commence  ? — 
How  lonjr  did  it  exist  ? — ^Who  took  and  destroyed  Nineveh  ? — When 
ijinM  it  ? — Who  took  Babylon  ? — How  was  its  conquest  effected  ? — 
After  the  conquest  of  Babylon  by  Cyrus,  who  attempted  to  make  it 
tn,  oapitid  of  bis  empire  ? — ^What  was  its  condition  after  the  death  of 
Aiezander  ^ 


K^ 


THE  RUINS  OF  BABYLON. 


39 


came  desolate.     Not  the  smallest  vaistige  of  it  iMyw  remains ; 
and  the  exact  place  where  it  stood  i*^  unknowa. 

8.  The  splendor  and  greatness  oi  Nmeveh  and  Babylon, 
as  of  all  other  great  citie$  of  early  tvm&f  consisted  cbi^ily 
ill  their  public  buildings.  The  dwellings  of  the  great  mass 
of  the  people  were  little  better  than  wietched  hovelfr— »vith- 
out,  unornamented  ;  and  within,  unfariiished.  Indeed,  Ni- 
neveh and  Babylon  contained  little  wor^y  of  notice,  except 
their  walls,  towers,  temples,  palaces,  and  superb  structures 
of  royalty.  How  incomparably  more  magnificent  are  the 
modern  cities  of  London  or  Paris,  when  viewed  as  the  abodes 
of  men !  Here  are  seen,  monuments  of  every  art  and  sci- 
ence ;  the  astonishing  effects  of  commerce ;  opulence  and 
independence  reigning  among  all  classes ;  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge  \  the  reign  of  science ;  freedom  and  plenty. 

9.  The  Assyrian  empire  rose,  flourished,  and  fell,  while 
the  world  was  in  its  infancy.  Few  maxims  of  its  govern- 
ment have  reached  our  times  ;  few  incidents  have  escaped 
oblivion  ;  and  those  which  have,  are  doubtlefis  tinctured  with 
the  stream  of  tradition,  passing  through  long  and  bewildering 
tracks  of  time.  From  what  we  can  gather  from  such  dubious 
lights,  we  are  led  to  conclude  ihat  the  fabric  of  ancient  mo- 
narchical governments  was  very  simple.  It  may  be  express- 
ed in  a  few  words,  sovereign  power,  and  absolute  subjection. 
Where  the  monarch  chanced  to  be  ftn  amiable  character,  the 
condition  of  the  subject  was  very  tolerable ;  but  power  so 
unrestrained  in  the  hands  of  a  bad  man,  produced  the  most 
dreadful  tyranny. 


THE  RUINS  OF  BABYLON. 

The  many  colored  domes* 

Yet  wore  one  dusty  hue, 

The  cranes  upon  the  Bfosqne 

Kept  their  night-clatter  still ; 
When  through  the  gate  ttiie^early  traveller  paw^, 
And  wh<Mi,4tfevefiing  o-er  the  swampy  plain 


Does  Babylon  taow  ez|8t  P-flirtlie  ezact{>Iace  of  ftn  situition  known 
to  us  ?— How  do  WnOvehand  Bift^yhm  oomi(tye%4lh  tiftfliTttiolllbs  f 
*  Of  Bagdad. 


90 


THE  RUINS  OF  BABYLOXV. 


The  Dittern's  boom  came  far, 

Distinct  in  darkness  seen, 
Above  the  low  horizon's  lingering  light 
Rose  the  near  ruins  of  old  Babylon. 
Once,  from  her  lofty  walls;  the  charioteer 
LookM  down  on  swarming  myriads ;  once  she  flung 
Her  arches  o'er  Ejaphrates*  conquered  tide, 
And  through  her  brazen  portals  when  she  pour'd 
Her  armies  forth,  the  distant  nations  look'd 
As  men  who  watch  the  thunder-cloud  in  fear 
Lest  it  should  burst  above  them. — She  was  fallen  ! 
The  queen  of  cities,  Babylon,  was  fallen  ! 
Low  lay  her  bulwarks — the  black  scorpion  basked 
In  palace  courts — within  the  sanctuary 

The  she-wolf  hid  her  whelps.  , 

Is  yonder  huge  and  shapeless  heap,  what  once 
Hath  been  the  aerial  gardens'  height  on  height. 
Rising,  like  Media's  mountains,  crown'd  with  wood, 
Work  of  imperial  dotage  ?     Where  the  fane 
Of  Belus  ?     Where  the  golden  image  now, 
Which,  at  the  sound  of  dulcimer  and  lute, 
Cornet  and  sackbut,  harp  and  psaltery, 

The  Assyrian  slaves  ador'd  ? 
A  labyrinth  of  ruins,  Babylon 

Spreads  o'er  the  blasted  plain. 
The  wanderihg  Arab  never  sets  his  tent 
Within  her  wsdls.    The  shepherd  eyes  afar 
Her  evil  towers,  and  devii^s  drives  his  flock. 
Alone  unchang'd,  a  fVee  and  bridgeless  tide, 

Euphrates  rolls  along, 

Eternal  nature's  work. 

Through  the  broken  portal, 

Over  weedy  fragments, 

Thalaba  went  his  way. 
,  Cautious  he  trod,  and  felt 
The  dangerous  ground  before  him  with  his  bov 

The  jackal  started  at  his  steps ; 

The  stork,  alarmed  at  sound  of  man, 
From  her  broad  nest  upon  the  old  pillar  top, 

Affrighted,  fled  on  flapping  wings ; 


THE  RUINS  OF  BABYLON.  3J 

The  adder  in  her  haunts  disturbed,   * 
Lanc*d  at  the  intruding  staff  her  arrowy  tongue. 

Twilight  and  moonshine,  dimly  mingling,  gave 

An  awful  light  obscure — 

Evening  not  wholly  clos'd — 
"    The  moon  still  pale  and  faint, — 

An  awful  light  obscure, 
Broken  by  many  a  mass  of  blackest  shade ; 
Long  columns  stretching  dark  through  weeds  and  moes ; 

Broad  length  of  lofty  wall. 

Whose  windows  lay  in  light, 
And  of  their  former  shape,  low-arch'd  or  squar 

Rude  outline  on  the  earth 

Figured,  with  long  grass  fringed. 

ReclinM  against  a  column's  broken  shaft, 
Unknowing  whitherward  to  bend  his  way, 

He  stood  and  gaz*d  around. 

The  ruins  closed  liim  in— 
^        It  seem'd  as  if  no  foot  of  man 
For  ages  had  intruded  there — 

He  stood  and  gazM  awhile, 
Musing  on  Babel's  pride,  and  Babel's  fall ; 

Then,  through  the  ruin'd  street, 

And  through  the  farther  gate. 

He  pass'd  in  silence  on. 


THE  EGYPTIANS. 


L  The  Egyptians  are  among  the  earliest  nations  of  v»hich 
we  have  any  account.  The  Mosaic  writings  represent  Egypt, 
about  436  years  after  the  flood,  a  flourishing  and  well  regu- 
lated kingdom.  This  circumstance  is  sufficient  evidence, 
that  Egypt  was  peopled  soon  after  the  flood,  in  order  to  have 

become  a  well  regulated  kingdom,  at  the  time  mentioned  by 

- — » ^— _j .    .       I  II  I 

What  is  the  antiquity  of  the  Egyptians  ? — What  was  the  condition 
(if  the  Egyptians,  436  years  after  the  flood,  according  to  the  Scrip- 
lure  account  of  them  ? — ^What  ma^  be  inferred  from  their  b«iog  r 
well  regulated  kingdom  at  that  p^iod  ? 


mm 


ii'  ,' 


;■'  ■ii 


I 


32  THE  EGYPTIANS. 

the  inspired  writ;er.  The  nature  of  the  country  also  itself 
affords  a  presumption  of  the  great  antiquity  of  the  empire, 
and  its  early  civilization.  From  the  fertilizing  effects  of  the 
waters  of  the  Nile,  it  is  probable  that  agriculture  would  be 
more  early  ^fttctised  here,  than  in  regions  less  favored  by 
nature. 

2.  Although  the  Egyptian  history  is  much  connected  with 
fable,  it  is  pretty  well  ascertained,  that  the  Egyptians  were 
considered  as  the  most  enlightened  people  in  the  world ;  and 
that  the  other  ancient  nations  were  much  indebted  to  thern 
for  their  .knowledge  in  arts  and  sciences.  The  Egyptians 
instructed  the  Greeks — ^the  Greeks  performed  the  same  office 
to  the  Romans — and  the  latter  have  transmitted  much  of 
that  knowledge  to  the  world,  of  which  we  are  in  possession 
to  this  day.  The  Egyptians  were  probably  the  first  who 
made  any  considerable,  if  not  the  first  who  made  any  ad- 
vances in  geometry,  astronomy,  and  medicine ;  and  it  is 
generally  supposed,  they  made  no  mean  proficiency  in  archi- 
tecture, painting,  and  sculpture. 

3.  The  government  ctf  Egypt  was  a  hereditary  monarchy. 
The  powers  of  the  monarch  were  limited  by  constitutional 
laws  ;  yet  in  many  respects  his  authority  was  extremely  de- 
spotical.  The  penal  laws  were  uncommonly  severe.  Funeral 
rites  were  not  conferred,  till  an  examination  was  had,  and  a 
judicial  decree  passed  ^approving  the  character  of  the  deceas- 
ed. The  characters  even  of  the  sovereigns  were  subjected 
to  this  inquiry.  There  was  also  an  extraordinary  regulation 
in  Egypt  regarding  the  borrowing  of  money.  The  Iwrrower 
gave  in,  pledge  the  body  of  his  father,  which  Was  deprived  of 
raneral  rites  if  he  failed  to  redeem  it. 

4.  The  husbandmen  devoted  their  whole  attention  to  agri- 
culture ;  and  the  son  COritititially  {Succeeded  the  father  in  his 
occupation — thus  they  became  the  most  famous  for  tillage, 
of  any  people  in  the  world.    The  shepherds  also  fbllowed 

WhatpFeBUmptive  evidence  does  the  nature  of  the  country  fiirnish, 
that  E^ypt  was  settled  at  an  early  period  ?— What  is  the  state  of  the 
Egy|»titfn  history  ?—^In  what  were  the  Egyptians  superior  to  the  con- 
teinpoMry  'nations  ? — How  has  the  learning  of  the  Egyptians  been 
tHmifnlttedtoQsP^-^f  what  sciences  were  the  Egyptians  considered 
the  discoverers,  or  if  not  the  discoverers,  the  first  who  cultivated 
tlMmto«»7<:onMderahlB  degree  ? — In  what  arts  did  they  make  proii- 
oi—idy  ?— ^What  was  the  government  of  Egypt  ? — ^What  singular  cus- 
•ott'Md  they,  relative  to  the  interment  of  the  dead  ? — ^And  what  ia 
regard  to  the  borrowing  of  money  ? 


>  itself 
impire, 
}  of  the 
»uld  be 
)red  by 

3d  with 
s  were 
d;  and 

0  thern 
yptians 
e  office 
iuch  of 
isession 
St  who 
my  ad- 
d  it  is  ' 

1  archi- 

narchy. 
tutional 
ely  de- 
^uneral 
and  a 
deoeas- 
ejected 
ulation 
trrower 
ved  of 

o  agri- 
inhis 
tillage, 
Allowed 

k 

irnish, 
of  the 
le  con- 
is  been 
Uidered 
Itivatod 
|e  profi- 
|ar  cus- 
rhatiB 


THE  EGYPTIANS. 


aa 


the  same  vocation  from  one  generation  to  another,  and  con- 
sequently attained  to  great  skill  in  pastoral  concerns,  endea- 
voring to  vie  with  each  other  in  contrivances  for  the  increase 
of  their  flocks.  The  same  law  which  compelled  the  de- 
scendants of  the  shepherd  and  husbandman  to  follow  the 
vocation  of  their  ancestors,  extended  to  arts  and  trades  of 
every  description ;  for  every  Egyptian  was  obliged  to  take 
up  his  father's  employment,  and  to  apply  himself  wholly  to 
that,  without  presuming  to  intermeddle  with  any  other. 

5.  The  Egyptians  had  a  great  number  of  gods  of  different 
ranks  and  orders — the  two  principal  ones  were  Osiris  and 
Isis,  supposed  to  have  been  the  sun  and  moon,  whose  influ- 
ences preserved  and  governed  the  world.  They  reckoned 
these  two  planets  the  great  causes  of  generation  and  nutri- 
tion, and  the  sources  from  whence  the  other  parts  of  nature, 
which  they  also  regarded  as  deities,  were  derived.  And  not- 
withstanding their  attainments  in  science,  this  people  was  sO 
grossly  idolatrous,  that,  exclusive  of  the  worship  they  paid 
their  pretended  gods,  they  actually  bestowed  divine  honors 
on  animals  and  vegetables  of  almost  every  description. 

6.  It  is  unanimously  agreed,  by  historians,  that  Menes, 
who  in  Scripture  is  called  Misraim,  the  second  son  of  Ham 
was  the  first  person  who  swayed  the  Egyptian  sceptre.    A 
large  number  of  the  kings  of  Egjrpt,  like  those  of  other  an 
cient  nations,  are  only  known  to  us  by  their  names.    Hero 
dotus,  the  Grecian  historian,  mentions  that  Egypt  had  a  cata 
logue  of  three  hundred  and  thirty  monarchs,  extending  from 
Menes  to  M ceris,  and  that  none  of  them,  except  Nitc>cris,  an 
Ethiopian  woman,  has  done  any  thing  worthy  of  hning  re- 
corded. 

7.  The  Egyptians  continued  a  distinct  nation,  and  were 
governed  by  their  own  kings,  till  subjected  to  the  Persians 
by  Canibyses.  But  tiiey  were  soon  delivered  from  Persian 
tyranny,  by  Alexander,  and  annexed  to  his  own  extensive  em- 
pire.   From  the  tijrne  of  their  being  subdued  by  C'ambyses, 

■  ■• ,     . . 

How  was  th«  etnpdoyinent  or  oecupatioDs  of  the  ^iqr|itiftnt  reffn- 
latod  ? — ^Whot  were  the  names  of  their  two  principal  cwities  ? — yfaaX 
was  their  religion  ?-^  Who  was  the  first  king  of  Egypt^  and  by  what 
Biune  is  he  known  in  Scripture  ?— Is  much  known  of  Vie  Egyptian' 
kings  g9a6j!tiXfy  ^ — ^What  does  Herodotus  s^iy  of  them  ? — By  wbimi 
were  the  Sgjtptiani  jHieoeiiiive}y  conquered  ?— -What  is  the  state  «of 
their  Ifistoiy  from -the  time  4>f  their  r<d«e4ioaflqr  GatabysM,  to  Ihe 
death  of  Alexander  P  4 


34 


1  HE  EGYPTIAN  PYRAMIDS. 


to  the  death  of  Alexander,  their  history  is  much  blended 
with  that  of  the  Persians  and  Greeks.  After  the  death  of 
Alexander,  Egypt  was  governed  by  a  succession  of  kings, 
for  nearly  two  hundred  years  ;  and  was  then  reduced  to  the 
condition  of  a  Roman  province. 

8.  Few  nations  have  been  more  subject  to  the  caprice  and 

♦  oppression  of  their  neighbors,  than  the  Egyptians.  Although 
fallen  from  the  political  eminence  that  she  once  held,  Egypt 
derived  but  little  security  against  molestation  and  oppres- 
sion from  her  adversity.  About  seven  hundred  years  after 
being  made  a  Romap  province,  it  was  conquered  by  the 
Saracens.  Since  that  period,  it  has  experienced  various 
changes  ;  and  is  nonjinally,  at  present,  under  the  control  of 

'  the  Turks. 


w-  V. 


Iff- 


ii 

pi     ■' 

m 


I 


'f 


THE  EGYPTIAN  PYRAMIDS. 

1.  The  pyramids  of  Egypt  are  well  entitled  to  a  place 
among  the  most  interesting  curiosities  in  the  world.  The 
principal  ones  stand  opposite  Cairo,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
river  Nile.  They  are  built  of  stones,  which  overleap  each 
other,  and  thus  form  steps  from  the  bottom  to  the  top.  The 
ptrp&ndicular  height  of  the  largest  is  about  500  feet,  and  the 
area  of  its  basis  contains  nearly  500,000  square  feet,  or  some- 
thing more  than  eleven  English  acres  of  ground.  Some 
idea  may  be  formed  of  the  cost  and  labor  in  the  structure  of 
this  pyramid,  from  the  fact  that  thirty  years  were  spent  in 
building  it,  and  that  lt)0,000  men  were  constantly  employed 
on  the  work. 

2  Such  were  the  famous  Egyptian  pyramids,  which,  by 
their  figure  as  well  as  size,  have  triumphed  over  the  injuries 
of  time  and  the  Barbarians.  Eia  whatever  efforts  men  make, 
their  own  nothingness  will  always  appeaij.  These  pyramids 
were  tombs ;  and  there  is  still  to  be  seel^,  in  the  middle  of 
the  largest,  an  empty  sepulchre,  cut  out  of  entire  stone,  about 

Under  vrhose  control  is  Egypt  at  the  present  time  ? — Where  do 
the  principal  pyramids  stand  ? — Of  what  and  how  are  they  con- 
structed ?— What  is  the  height  of  the  largest  ? — ^What  is  the  extent 
of  its  basis  ? — How  Ipng  time  was  spent  in  t>uilding  it  ? — How  many 
men  were  employed  aboattfae  work  ^*-For  what  were  these  pyramim 
designed  ? 


leaded 

ath  of 

kings, 

to  the 

ice  and 
though 
Egypt 
oppres- 
:s  after 
by  the 
vavioas 
[itrol  of 


-^e' 


a  place 
i.     The 
;  of  the 
ap  each 
).     The 
and  the 
>r  some- 
Some 
ctureof  , 
spent  in 
ployed 

|hich,  by 
injuries 
^n  make, 
pyramids 
iddle  of 
Le,  about 

^here  do 
they  con- 
'le  extent 

}w  maiiy 
Ipyramidf 


x: 


-■if.' 


Y  Yi. 


'i 


II 


II 


;* 


mm 


BM 


THE  EGYPTIAN  PYRAMIDS. 


35 


three  feot  deep  and  broad,  and  a  little  above  six  feet  long. 
Thus  all  this  bustle,  all  this  expense,  and  all  the  labors  of  so 
many  thousand  mer,  ended  in  procuring  a  prince,  in  this 
vast  and  almost  boundless  pile  of  buildings,  a  liulo  vault  six 
feet  in  length.  Besides,  the  kings,  who  built  these  pyra- 
mids, had  it  not  ip  their  power  to  be  buried  in  them,  and  so 
did  not  enjoy  the  sepitlture  they  had  built.  The  public  ha- 
ired which  they  incurred,  by  reason  of  their  unheard  of  cru- 
elties to  their  subjects,  in  laying  such  heavy  tasks  upon  them, 
occasioned  their  being  interred  in  some  obscure  place,  to 
prevent  their  bodies  from  being  exposed  to  the  fury  and  ven- 
geance of  the  populace. 

3.  This  last  circumstance,  of  which  historians  have  taken 
particular  notice,  teaches  us  what  judgment  we  ought  to  pass 
on  these  edifices,  m  much  boasted  of  by  the  ancients.  It  is 
but  just  to  remark  and  esteem  the  noble  genius  which  the 
Egyptians  had  for  architecture ;  a  genius  that  prompted 
them,  from  the  earliest  times,  and  before  they  could  iiave 
any  models  to  imitate,  to  aim  in  all  things  at  the  grand 
and  magnificent ;  and  to  be  intent  on  real  beauties,  without 
deviating  in  the  least  from  a  noble  simplicity,  in  which  th« 
highest  perfection  of  the  art  consists.  But  what  idea  ought 
we  to  form  of  those  princes,  who  considered  as  something 
grand  the  raising,  by  a  mi^Hitude  of  hands,  and  by  the  helj) 
of  money,  immense  structures,  with  the  sole  view  of  render- 
ing their  names  immortal ;  and  ^ho  did  not  scruple  to  dfi- 
stroy  thousands  of  their  subjects  to  satisfy  their  vain  glory  ! 
They  differed  very  much  from  the  Romans,  who  sought  t(» 
immortalize  themselves  by  works  of  a  magnificent  kjhd,  but 
at  the  same  time,  of  public  utility. 

4.  Pliny  gives  as,  in  jl;  few  words,  a  just  idea  of  these  py- 
ramids, when  he  calls  them  a  foolish  and  useless  ostentation 
of  the  wealth  of  Egyptian  kmgs ;  and  idds,  that,  by  a 
just  punishment.,  their  memory  is  buried  r\  .4)livion,  histori- 
ans not  agreeing  among  themselves  abolit  tht.  names  of  those 
who  first  raised  those  vain  monuments.  In  a  word,  accord- 
ing to  the  judicious  remark  of  Diodoius,  i^c  industry  of  the 
architects  of  those  pyramids  is  no  less  valuable  and  praise- 
Were  the  pyramids  used  for  tlie  purposea  for  whicih  thoy  wer© 

built  ? — Why  were  they  not  ? — Is  it  knov/n  fr>r  a  certainty  who  wer» 
the  first  projectors  of  the  pyramids  ^ — How  did  the  Romans  diffoi 
froin  the  Eg3'ptians  in  works  of  i;ia<jnU!icence  and  aggrandizcinent  r 
4t         • 


J  ■: 


'It 


36 


THE  FALLING  TOWER 


worthy,  than  the  design  of  the  Egyptian  kings  contemptible 
and  ridiculous. 

5.  But  what  we  should  most  admire  in  these  ancient  mo- 
numentSj  is  the  true  and  standing  evidence  they  give  of  the 
skill  of  the  Egyptians  in  astronomy  ;  that  is  a  science  which 
seems  incapable  of  being  brought  to  perfection,  but  by  a  long 
series  of  years,  and  a  great  number  of  observatiom.  It  has 
been  found,  that  the  four  sides  of  the  great  pyram-.d  na  iied, 
were  turned  exactly  to  the  four  quait&is  of  the  world  ;  and 
consequently  showed  the  true  meridian  of  that  place.  Now, 
as  so  exact  a  situation  was  in  all  probability  purposely  pitch- 
ed upon  by  those  who  piled  up  this  huge  mass  of  stones,  above 
three  thousand  years  ago,  it  follows,  that  during  so  long  a 
space  of  time,  there  has  been  no  alteration  in  the  heavens  in 
that  respect,  or,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing,  in  the 
poles  of  the  earth  or  the  meridians. 


THE  FALLING  TOWER. 

Maek  yc  the  tower,  whose  lonely  halls 

Re-echo  to  yon  falling  stream  ? 
Mark  ye  its  bare  and  crumbling  walls, 

While  slowly  fades  the  sinking  beam  ? 

There,  oft,  when  eve,  in  silent  trance, 
Hears  the  lorn  red-breast's  plaintive  moan  ;^ 

Time,  casting  round  a  cautious  glance, 
Heaves  from  its  base  some  mould'ring  stom 

There,  though  in  time's  departed  day, 

War  wavM  his  glitt'ring  banners  high  ; 
Though  many  a  minstrel  pour'd  the  lay. 

And  many  a  beauty  tranc'd  the  eye- 
Yet  never  midst  the  gorgeous  scene, 

Midst  the  proud  feasts  of  splendid  power, 
Shone  on  the  pile  a  beam  serene. 

So  bright  as  gilds  its  falling  hour. 


What  is  most  to  be  admired  in  the  pyramids  P — What  astronomioaJ 
lact  do  they  furiiish  ' 


THE  RIVER  NILE. 


37 


;einptible 

jient  mo- 
ve  of  the 
ce  which 
by  a  long 
.  It  has 
1  HiJiied, 
rid  ;  and 
J.  Now, 
"ily  pitch- 
les,  above 
so  long  a 
cavens  in 
g,  in  the 


li-ir* 


tronoroioaJ 


Oh  !  thus,  when  life's  gay  scenes  shall  fade, 
And  pleasure  lose  its  wonted  bloom, 

When  creeping  age  shall  bare  my  head, 
And  point  me  to  the  silent  tomb  ; 

Then  may  religion's  hallow'd  (lame 
Shed  on  my  miid  its  mildest  ray, 

And  bid  it  seek,  in  purer  frame. 
One  bright  eternity  of  day. 


THIS  RIVER  NILE. 

1.  The  overflowing  of  the  Nile  procures  every  advantage, 
and  supplies  the  want  of  rain,  which  never  falls  in  Egypt. 
This  river  has  its  source  in  the  mountains  of  Abyssinia, 
from  whence  it  does  not  arrive  in  Egypt  till  it  has  been  pre- 
cipitated over  seven  cataracts,  with  a  noise  that  is  heard  se- 
veral leagues.  It  begins  to  swell  in  the  mouth  of  May,  and 
by  a  gradual  increase,  which  is  almost  imperceptible  at  first, 
it  arrivas  at  a  sufficient  height  to  overflow  the  country,  and 
remains  in  that  state  from  the  month  of  June  till  October. 

2.  The  ancients,  who  were  ignorant  of  the  causes  of  the 
inundation,  have  assigned  some  fabulous  reasons,  which 
will  always  be  the  case  when  people  substitute  conjectures 
instead  of  facts.  At  present,  we  know,  that  it  rains  in  Ethi- 
opia five  months  in  the  year,  from  April  to  September,  which 
is  the  secret  of  the  overflowing' of  the  Nile.  And  the  pro- 
ci;>us  mud  which  it  brings  along  with  it  produces  the  amaz- 
iiig  fertility  of  Egypt.  Thus  lands,  which  are  naturally 
Jry  and  sandy,  become  the  best  soil  in  the  world. 

;i  The  husbandman  in  this  country  never  tires  himself 
With  holdui^  the  plough,  or  breaking  the  clods  of  the  earth. 
As  soon  as  the  Nile  retires  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  turn 
up  the  earth,  and  temper  it  with  a  little  sand,  in  order  to  les- 
sen its  rankness ;  after  which  he  sows  it  with  great  ease,  and 
with  little  or  no  expense.  Two  months  after,  it  is  covered 
with  all  sorts  of  corn  and  pulse.     The  Egyptians  generally 

What  suppIioR  the  want  of  rain  in  Eg  rpt,  ? — ^What  occasions  the 
inundations  of  the  Nile  ? — At  what  time  does  it  be^in  to  rise,  and 
what  time  does  it  continue  to  overflow  the  country  1 — Why  do  the 
inundations  of  the  Nil©  produce  so  great  fertility  in  the  soil  of  Eg^ypl ' 


36 


THE  RIVER  NILE. 


II 


h 


' 


.sow  in  October  and  November,  according  as  the  waters  draw 
oft' ;  and  their  harvest  is  in  March  and  4^pril.  The  same 
land,  in  one  year,  produces  three  or  four  different  kinds  of 
crops.  Lettuces  and  cucumbers  are  sown  first ;  then  corn  ; 
;iikI  after  harvest,  several  kinds  of  pulse,  which  are  peculiar 
to  Egypt. 

4.  As  the  riches  of  Egypt  depend  on  the  inundation  ot 
the  Nile,  all  the  circum.stances  and  different  degrees  of  it^ 
increase  have  been  carefully  considered ;  and  by  a  long  se- 
ries of  regular  observation,  made  during  many  years,  the  inun- 
dation itself  discovered  what  kind  of  harvest  the  ensuins 
year  was  likely  to  produce.  The  kings  had  placed  at  Mem- 
phis a  measure  on  which  these  different  increases  were 
marked ;  and  from  thence  notice  was  given  to  all  the  rest 
of  Egypt,  the  irV^^bitants  of  which  knew  by  that  means,  be- 
forehand, what  i  ,  ^ight  fev  or  promise  themselves  from 
the  harvest. 

5.  The  same  custom  is  preserved  to  this  day  at  Grand 
Cairo.  In  the  court  of  a  mosque,  there  stands  a  pillar  on 
which  are  marked  the  degrees  of  the  Nile's  increase ;  and 
common  criers  every  d&y  proclaim,  in  all  parts  of  the  city, 
how  high  it  is  risen.  The  tribute  paid  to  the  Grand  Seign- 
ior for  the  lands  is  settled  by  the  inundation.  The  day  it 
rises  to  such  a  height  is  kept  as  a  grand  festival,  and  solem- 
nized with  fire  works,  feastings,  and  all  the  d'^monstrations  of 
public  rejoicing ;  and  in  the  remote  ages,  the  overflowing 
of  the  Nile  was  always  attended  with  an  universal  joy 
throughout  all  Egypt,  that  being  the  foundation  of  its  happi- 
ness. 

6.  There  cannot  be  a  finer  sight  than  Egypt  at  two  sea- 
sons of  the  year.  For  if  i  man  ascends  some  mountain,  or 
one  of  the  largest  pyramids  of  Grand  Cairo,  in  the  months 
July  and  August,  he  beholds  a  vast  sea,  in  which  number- 
less jlowns  and  villages  appear,  with  several  causeways  lead- 
ing from  place  to  place  ;  the  whole  interspersed  with  groves 
and  fruit  trees,  whose  tops  only  are  visible  ;  all  which  forms 
a  delightful  prospect  This  view  is  bounded  by  mountains 
^nd  woods,  which  terminate,  at  the  utmost  distance  the  eye 
can  discover,  the  most  beautiful  horizon  that  can  be  imagined. 

At  what  time  do  the  Egyptians  ffenerally  sow  their  seed  ? — Do  they 
obtain  more  than  ono  crop  ? — In  wnat  w«y  aro  they  alAe  to  determine 
the  quantity  of  crops  beforehand  P 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  WRITING. 


39 


Oil  the  contrary,  in  winter,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  months  of 
January  and  February,  the  whole  country  is  JiVe  one  con- 
tinued scene  of  beautiful  meadows,  whose  verdure,  enamelled 
with  flowers,  charms  the  eye.  The  spectator  beholds,  on 
every  side,  flocks  and  herds  dispersed  over  all  the  plains  with 
infinite  numbers  of  husbandmen  and  gardeners.  The  air  is 
then  perfumed  by  the  great  quantity  of  blossoms  on  the 
orange,  lemon,  and  other  trees ;  and  is  so  pure,  that  a  whole- 
somer  or  more  agreeable  is  not  found  in  the  world ;  so  that 
nature  being  then  dead  as  it  were  in  all  other  climates,  seems 
to  be  alive  only  for  so  delightful  an  abode. 

7.  Long  has  my  curious  90UI,  from  early  youth, 
Toil'd  in  the  noble  search  o^sacred  truth  ; 
But  still  no  views  have  uM'q^itiy  #&or  more; 
Than  Nile's  remotest  fon^in  t^  explore. 

Then  say,  what  source  tlld  ^^mous^ream  suppiies, 
And  bids  it  at  revolving  periods  rise ; 
Show  me  that  head  from  whence,  since  time  began, 
The  long  succession  of  his  waves  has  run. 

This  let  me  know,  and  all  my  toils  shall  cease. 

The  sword  be  sheath*d,  and  earth  be  blessed  with  peace. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  WRITING. 

1.  Pictures  were  undoubtedly  the  first  essay  towards  writ- 
ing. Imitation  is  so  natural  to  man,  that  in  all  ages,  and 
among  all  nations,  some  methods  have  obtained  of  copying 
or  tracing  the  likeness  of  sensible  objects.  Those  methods 
would  be  soon  employed  by  men,  for  giving  some  imperfect 
information  to  others  at  a  distance,  of  what  had  happened ; 
or  for  preserving  the  memory  of  facts,  which  they  sought  to 
record.  Thus,  to  signify  that  one  man  killed  another,  they 
drew  the  figure  of  one  man  stretched  upon  the  earth,  and  of 
another  standing  by  him  with  a  deadly  weapon  in  his  hand. 

2.  We  find,  in  fact,  that  when  America  was  first  discover- 
ed, this  was  the  only  sort  of  writing  known  in  the  kingdom 

'  '  .1  I  i  "  '  III!  II  - 

What  -nras  probably  the  first  essay  towards  writing  ? — How  wouM 
•ne,  killing  another,  have  been  represented  ? 


pi  I         ""I" 


m 


4t) 


THE  PIIOURESS  OF  WRITING. 


of  Mexico.  By  historical  pictures,  the  Mexicans  are  said  to 
have  transmitted  the  memory  of  the  most  important  transac- 
tions of  their  empire.  These,  however,  must  have  been  ex- 
tremely imperfect  records  ;  and  the  nations  who  had  no  other 
I  must  have  been  very  gross  and  rude.  Pictures  could  do  no 
more  than  delineate  external  events.  They  could  neithei 
exhibit  the  connexions  of  them,  nor  describe  such  qualities 
as  were  not  visible  to  the  eye,  nor  convey  an  idea  of  the  dis- 
positions or  words  of  men. 

3.  To  supply,  in  some  degree,  this  defect,  there  arose,  in 
process  of  time,  the  invention  of  what  ate  called  hierogly^ 
phical  characters  ;  which  may  be  considered  as  the  second 
stage  of  the  art  of  writing.  Hieroglyphics  consist  in  certain 
symbols  which  are  made  to  i|tand  for  invisible  objects,  on 
account  of  an  analogy  or  res^agplance  which  some  symbols 
were  supposed  to  bear  to  the  oBJects.  Thus,  an  eye  was  the 
hieroglyphical  symbol  of  knowledge ;  a  circle,  of  eternity, 
which  has  ndiiher  beginning  nor  end.  Hieroglyphics,  there- 
fore, were  a  more  refined  and?' extensive  species  of  painting. 
Pictures  dei  i*  atr  !  the  resemblance  of  external  visible  ob- 
jects, by  analogies  taken  from  the  e?:ternal  world. 

4.  Egypt  was  the  country  where  this  sort  of  writing  was 
most  studieG,  and  brought  into  a  regular  art.  In  hierogly- 
phics, they  conveyed  all  the  boasted  wisdom  of  their  priests. 
According  to  the  properties  which  they  ascribed  to  animals, 
or  qualities  with  which  they  supposed  natural  objects  to  be 
endued,  they  pitched  upon  them  to  be  the  emblems  or  hiero- 
glyphics of  moral  objects  ;  and  employed  them  in  their  writ- 
ing for  that  end.  Thus,  ingratitude  was  denominated  by  a 
viper  ;  imprudence,  by  a  fly  ;  wisdom,  by  an  ant ;  victory,  by 
a  hawk  ;  a  dutiful  child,  by  a  stork  ;  a  man  universally  shun- 
ned, by  an  eel,  which  they  supposed  to  be  found  in  company 
with  no  other  fish.  Sometimes  they  joined  together  two  or 
more  of  these  hieroglyphical  characters  ;  as,  a  serpent  with 
a  hawk's  head,  to  denote  nature,  with  God  presiding  over  it 

5.  From  hieroglyphics,  or  symbols  of  things  invisible, 


Were  pictures  a  perfect  representation  of  facts  ? — What  method  oi 
writing  next  succeeded  pictures? — What  are  hierofflyphics ? — How 
was  knowledge  represented  ? — How  was  eternity  ?--Wnere  was  thie 
sort  of  writing  most  used  ? — How  did  the  Egyptians  represent  ingraii- 
tude  ? — How  imprudence  ? — How  wisdom  ? — How  7ictory  ? — How  a 
dutiful  child  ? — How  a  man  universally  shunned  ? 


THE  TROJAN  WAR. 


4/ 


'e  said  to 
transac- 
been  ex- 
no  other 
lid  do  no 
1  neithei 
qualities 
f  the  dis- 

arose,  in 
hierogly- 
le  second 
in  certain 
jjects,  on 
}  symbols 
e  was  the 
■  eternity, 
ics,  there- 
painting, 
i^isible  ob- 

fiting  was 

hierogly- 

lir  priests. 

0  animals, 

ects  to  be 

or  hiero- 
their  writ- 
lated  by  a 
victory,  by 
ally  shun- 

company 
ler  two  or 
pent  with 
ag  over  it 

invisible, 


method  oi 
lies  ? — How 
sre  was  thii 
«nt  ingratir 
f  ? — How  a 


writing  advanced,  among  some  nations,  to  simple  arbitrary 
marks,  which  stood  for  objects,  though  without  any  resem- 
blance or  analogy  to  the  objects  signified.  Of  this  nature 
was  the  method  of  writing  among  the  Peruvians.  They 
made  use  of  small  cords  of  different  colors ;  and  by  knots 
on  these,  of  various  sizes,  and  differently  ranged,  they  con- 
trived signs  for  giving  information,  and  communicating  their 
thoughts  to  one  another. 

6.  Of  this  nature,  also,  are  the  written  characters  which 
are  used  to  this  day  throughout  the  great  empire  of  China. 
The  Chinese  have  no  alphabet  of  letters,  or  simple  sounds, 
which  compose  their  words.  But  every  single  character 
which  they  use  in  writing  is  significant  of  an  idea  ;  it  is  a 
mark  that  stands  for  some  one  thing  or  object.  By  conse- 
quence, the  number  of  their  characters  must  be  immense. 
It  must  correspond  to  the  whole  number  of  objects  or  ideas 
which  they  have  occasion  to  express ;  that  is,  to  the  whole 
number  of  words  which  they  employ  in  speech.  They  are 
said  to  have  seventy  thousand  of  these  characters.  To  read 
and  write  them  to  perfection,  is  the  study  of  a  whole  life  ; 
which  subjects  learning  among  them  to  infinite  disadvantage, 
and  must  have  greatly  retarded  the  progress  of  all  science. 


THE  TROJAN  WAR. 

1.  It  is  generally  agreed,  that  a  hereditary  enmity  had  sub- 
sisted tetween  the  Greeks  and  Trojans.  Paris,  the  son  of 
Priam,  the  most  beautiful  man  of  his  time,  having  been  al- 
,  lured  by  the  fame  of  Helen,  the  queen  of  Sparta,  went  over 
into  Greece,  and  visited  the  Spartan  court.  Helen  is  cele- 
brated by  the  poets  as  possessing  every  personal  charm  in  its 
highest  perfection,  and  as  the  most  perfect  beauty  of  ancient 
times.  Her  susceptible  heart  was  too  easily  captivated  by 
the  artful  address  and  polished  manners  of  the  perfidious 
Paris.  She  listened  to  his  insinuations,  and,  lost  to  a  ser  ip 
of  honor  and  duty,  she  made  her  escape  with  him,  and  took 
refuge  amidst  the  towers  of  Troy. 

What  method  of  writing  succeeded  hieroglyphics,  and  was  used  b^ 
the  Peruvians  ?— What  nation  now  has  no  other  lanjrua/Te  than  arbi 
trary  characters  ? — How  many  of  those  characters  are  the  Chinoso 
said  to  have  ? — What  occasioned  the  Trojan  war  ? 


42 


THE  TROJAN  WAR. 


:i 


2.  Tlic  king  of  Sparta,  stung  with  the  treachery  of  his 
beauteous  queen,  whom  he  adored,  and  enraged  at  the  base- 
ness and  perfidy  of  the  Trojan  prince,  to  whom  he  had 
hhbwn  all  the  rights  of  hospitality,  loudly  complained  of  the 
injury,  and  appealed  to  the  justice  of  his  countrymen.  His 
brother  Agamemnon,  the  most  powerful  prince  of  Greece, 
seconded  his  complaints,  and  used  his  influence  and  authori- 
ty to  rouse  the  resentment  of  the  whole  extensive  confedera- 
tion. He  succeeded  ;  for  the  princes  and  people  of  Greece, 
n-y  less  wounded  in  their  pride  than  stung  with  a  sense  of 
the  atrocious  villany,  determined  to  extinguish  the  flames  of 
their  resentment  in  the  blood  of  Priam  and  his  people,  who 
refused  to  restore  the  illustrious  fugitive. 

3.  A  powerful  army  was  accordingly  sent  to  wage  war 
with  the  Trojans  ;  but  the  enterprise  was  found  to  be  attend- 
ed with  unforeseen  difficulties.  The  Trojans  were  a  brave 
and  gallant  people,  of  considerable  resources,  and  very  great 
courage.  Hector,  the  son  of  Priam,  equalled  only  by  Achil- 
les, commanded  the  Trojans,  and  often  disputed  the  field  of 
victory  with  invincible  bravery  and  various  success ;  and 
when,  after  the  death  of  Hector,  the  Trojans  could  no  longer 
keep  the  field,  the  city  of  Troy  was  defended  by  lofly  towers 
uid  impregnable  walls. 

4.  The  fortune  of  Greece  prevailed ;  not  however  by  arms, 
but  by  stratagem.  The  Greeks,  worn  out  by  a  war  of  ten 
years,  determined  to  risk  their  hopes  on  one  desperate  effort, 
which,  if  successful,  would  end  the  war  in  victory ;  if  not, 
would  exterminate  all  hope  of  conquest  for  the  present,  if 
not  for  ever.  They  made  preparations  for  returning  home, 
embarked  in  their  ships,  and  set  sail ;  but  they  left  near  the 
city  a  wooden  horse  of  vast  size,  in  which  was  enclosed  a 
band  of  their  bravest  heroes.  This  image,  they  pretended 
as  an  offering  to  the  goddess  Min4rva,  to  be  placed  in  the 
Trojan  citadel.  To  give  effect  to  this  stratagem,  Sinon  was 
despatched  over  to  the  Trojans,  with  an  artful  and  fictiitious 
story,  pretending  he  had- made  his  escape  from  the  Greeks. 
The  superstition  of  the  times  gave  them  complete  success. 
The  whim  struck  the  Trojans  favorably.  They  laid  open 
their  walls,  and,  by  various  means,  dragged  the  baneful  mon- 
ster, pregnant  with  destruction,  into  the  city. 


Who  conunanded  the  Trojans  ? — How  was  Troy  finally  takui  f 


THE  TROJAN  WAR. 


4S 


vage  war 
36  attend- 
•e  a  brave 
rery  great 
by  Achil- 
le  field  of 
;ess ;  and 
no  longer 
»fty  towers 

r  by  arms, 
rar  of  ten 
rate  effort, 
y ;  if  not, 
)resent,  if 
ing  home, 
't  near  the 
jnclosed  a 
pretended 
ped  in  the 
ISinon  was 
fict'itious 
Le  Greeks, 
success, 
laid  open 
leful  mon- 


Ukvaf 


;:'s^ 


5.  That  night  was  spent  in  festivity  through  Troy.  Efev 
guard  was  withdrawn ;  all  threw  aside  their  tarns ;  and,  dis- 
solved in  wine,  amusement,  pleasure,  and  repose,  gave  fii.. 
effect  to  the  hazardous  enterprise  of  the  hardy  Greeks.  The 
fleet,  in  the  night  time,  drew  back  to  the  shore ;  the  men 
landed  and  approached  the  city ;  the  heroes  in  the  wooden 
horse  sallied  forth,  killed  what  few  they  met,  opened  the  city- 
gates,  and  the  Greeks  entered.  The  night,  which  was  begun 
ill  feasting  and  carousal,  ended  in  conflagration  and  blood. 
The  various  parts  of  this  daring  plan,  liable  to  great  uncer* 
tainties  and  embarrassments,  were  concentrated  and  made 
effectual  by  the  signal  of  a  torch  Shown  from  a  conspicuous 
tower  by  Helen  herself,  the  perfidious  beauty  who  had  caused 
the  war. 

6.  Never  was  national  vengeance  more  exemplary,  or 
ruin  more  complete.  The  destruction  of  Troy  took  place 
1184  years  before  the  Christian  era.  This  fall  of  the  Tro* 
jan  empire  was  final.  Independence  and  sovereignty  never 
returned  to  those  delightful  shores ;  nor  has  that  country 
since  made  any  figure  in  history.  It  continued  to  be  pos- 
sessed and  colonized  by  the  Greeks,  while  they  flourished, 
and  followed  the  fortunes  and  revolutions  of  the  great  em- 
pires. 

7.  If  the  charms  of  Helen  proved  tlie  destruction  of  Troy, 
yet  the  Greeks  themselves,  though  they  were  able  to  punish 
her  seducer,  had  little  reason  to  boast  of  their  conquest,  or 
glory  in  their  revenge.  On  their  return,  their  fleets  were 
dispersed,  and  many  of  their  ships  wrecked  on  dangerous 
coasts.  Some  of  them  wandered  through  long  voyages,  and 
settled  in  0reign  parts.  Some  became  pirates,  and  infested 
the  seas  with  formidable  depredations.  A  few,  and  but  a 
few  of  them,  returned  to  their  homes,  where  fortunes  equally 
disastrous  roliowed  them.  Their  absence,  for  a  course  of 
years,  had  quite  altered  the  scene  of  things ;  as  it  had  opened 
tlu;  way  to  conspiracies,  usurpations,  and  exterminating  revo- 
iuiions.  Their  vacant  thrones  had  been  filled  by  usurpers ; 
and  their  dominions,  left  defenceless,  had  fallen  a  prey  to 
every  rapacious  pltindei^ef.  The  states  of  Greece,  which>  at 
the  beginning  of  the  Trojan  war.  were  rising  fast  to  pros- 

'   ■      ■     '       '  — ■—         ...■—..■.      I    -■   .  ..         .1   ■        <.■■■■■..  -     .1        ■  yii        I.I    ..I  ,■,,■■   .I...     -   „  n   I  I    ■■ 

When  did  the  destruction  of  Troy  tako  place  ? — By  whom  was  it 
then  possessed  ? — What  effect  had  the  Trojan  war  upon  the  profp«nty 
of  the  Greeks?         5 


44 


BATTLE  OF  THEIIMOPYLJS. 


)Mirity,  power,  and  happiness,  were  overwhelmed  with  cft 
lamities,  and  seemed  returning  rapidly  to  savage  barbarity. 


,i 


BATTLE  OF  THERMOPYLiE. 


>i* 


1.  TnEi^MOPYLiE  is  a  strait  or  narrow  pass  of  mount  C£ta, 
between  Thessaly  and  Phocis,  but  25  feet  broad,  which 
therefore  might  be  defended  by  a  small  number  of  forces, 
and  which  was  the  only  way  through  which  the  Persian  ar* 
my  could  enter  Achaia,  and  advance  to  besiege  Athens. 
This  was  the  place  where  the  Grecian  army  thought  fit  to 
wait  for  the  enemy — the  person  who  commanded  it  was  Le- 
onidas,  one  of  the  two  kings  of  Sparta.  The  whole  Grecian 
forces,  joined  together,  amounted  only  to  11,200  men,  of 
which  number  4,000  only  were  employed  at  Thermopylae  to 
defend  the  pass.  But  these  soldiers,  says  Pausanias  the  his- 
torian, were  all  determined,  to  a  man,  either  to  conquer  or 
die  ;  and  what  is  there  that  an  army  of  such  resolution  is 
not  able  to  effect ! 

2.  Xerxes,  in  the  mean  time,  was  upon  his  march ;  and 
as  he  advanced  near  the  straits  of  Thermopylae,  he  was 
strangely  surprised  to  find  that  they  were  prepared  to  dis- 
pute nis  passage.  He  had  always  flattered  himself,  that  on 
the  first  hearing  of  his  arrival,  the  Grecians  would  betake 
themselves  to  flight ;  nor  could  he  ever  be  persuaded  to  be- 
lieve, what  Demaratus  had,  told  him  from  the  beginning  of 
his  project,  that  at  the  first  pass  he  came  to,  he  would  find 
his  whole  army  stopped  by  a  handful  of  men.  He  sent  out 
a  spy  to  take  a  view  of  the  enemy.  The  spy  brought  him 
word,  that  he  found  the  Lacedaemonians  out  of  their  en- 
trenchments, and  that  they  were  diverting  themselves  with 
military  exercises,  and  combing  their  hair — this  was  the 
Spartan  manner  of  preparing  themselves  for  battle. 

3.  Xerxes,  still  entertaining  some  hopes  of  their  flighty 
waited,  four  days  on  purpose  to  give  them  time  to  retreat ; 
and  in  this  interval  of  time,  he  used  his  utmost  endeavors  to 
gain  Leonidas,  by  making  him  magnificent  promises,  and 

What  is  Thermopyle  ? — Who  commanded  the  Grecian  forces  at 
thia  atrait? — ^How  many  men  had  he  left  with  him  to  defend  this 
Urak? 


m 


\ 


BATTLE  OP  THERMOPYL^ 


46 


th  ca 

rity. 


It  CEta, 

whicb 

forces, 
sian  ar- 
Athens, 
ht  fit  to 
H^as  Le- 
Grecian 
men,  of 
opyls  to 
I  the  his- 
nquer  or 
)lution  is 

•ch;  and 
he  was 
d  to  dia- 
that  on 
betake 
ed  to  be- 
nning  of 
ould  find 
sent  out 
light  him 
their  en- 
Ives  with 
was  the 

■eir  flight; 
retreat ; 
leavers  to 
ises,  and 

foTcee  at 
Idefeod  this 


assuring  him  that  he  would  make  him  master  of  all  Greece, 
if  he  would  come  ovei  to  his  party.  Leonidas  rejected  his 
proposal  with  scorn  and  indignation.  Xerxes,  having  after* 
wards  wrote  to  him  to  deliver  up  his  arms,  Leonidas,  in  a 
style  and  spirit  truly  laconical,  answered  him  in  these  words, 
"  Come  and  take  them.**  Nothing  remained  but  to  prepare 
themselves  to  engage  the  Lacedsmonians.  Xerxes  first 
commanded  his  Median  forces  to  march  against  them,  with 
orders  to  take  them  all  alive,  and  bring  them  all  to  him. 
These  Medes  were  not  able  to  stand  the  charge  of  the  Gre- 
cians ;  and  being  shamefully  put  to  flight,  they  showed,  says 
Herodotus,  that  Xerxes  had  a  great  many  men,  and  but  few 
soldiers.  The  next  that  were  sent  to  face  the  Spartans,  were 
those  Persians  called  the  Immortal  Band,  which  consisted  of 
10,000  men,  and  were  the  best  troops  in  the  whole  army. 
But  these  had  no  better  success  than  the  former. 

4.  Xerxes,  out  of  all  hopes  of  being  able  to  force  his  way 
through  troops  so  determined  to  conquer  or  die,  was  extremely 
perplexed,  and  could  not  tell  what  resolution  to  take  ;  when 
an  inhabitant  of  the  country  came  to  him,  and  discovered  a 
secret  path  to  the  top  of  an  eminence,  which  overlooked  and 
commanded  the  Spartan  forces.  He  quickly  despatched  a 
detachment  thither ;  which,  marching  all  night,  arrived  there 
at  break  of  day,  and  possessed  themselves  of  that  advantage- 
ous spot.  The  Greeks  were  soon  apprised  of  this  misfor- 
tune ;  and  Leonidas,  seeing  that  it  was  now  impossible  to 
repulse  the  enemy,  obliged  the  rest  of  the  allies  to  retire,  but 
staid  himself  with  his  300  Lacedaemonians,  all  resolved  to 
die  with  their  leader ;  who  being  told  by  the  oracle,  that 
either  Lacedsemon  or  her  king  must  necessarily  perish,  de- 
termined, without  the  least  difiiculty  or  hesitation,  to  sacri- 
fice himself  for  his  country. 

5.  The  Spartans  lost  all  hopes  either  of  conr;:.;:  ing  or 
escaping,  and  looked  upon  Thermopylae  as  theu  burying 
place.  The  king  exhorting  his  men  to  take  some  nourish- 
ment, and  telling  them  that  they  should  sup  together  with 
old  Pluto,  they  set  up  a  shout  c"  joy,  as  if  they  had  been  in- 
vited to  a  banquet ;  and,  full  of  ardor,  advanced  with  their 

What  reply  did  Leonidas  make  when  Xerxes  wrote  to  him  to  do- 
tiver  up  his  arms  ? — How  did  Xerxes,  with  the  Persians,  micceed  in 
reaching  an  eminence  that  overlooked  and  commanded  the  Spartan 
(brees  ? — How  many  of  hii  forces  remained  to  irierish  with  LeonidM  ? 


■MMIIII 


f 

1 


46 


BATTLE  OF  THERMOPYLAE. 


king  to  battle.  The  shock  was  exceedingly  violent  and 
bloody.  Leonidas  himself  was  one  of  the  first  that  fell.  The 
endeavors  of  the  Lacedsemonidns  to  defend  his  dead  body, 
were  incredible.  At  length,  not  vanquished,  but  oppressed 
by  numbers,  they  all  fell  except  one  man,  who  escaped  to 
Spaita,  where  he  was  treated  as  a  coward  and  traitor  to  his 
country,  and  nobody  would  keep  company  or  converse  with 
him.  But  soon  afterwards,  he  made  a  glorious  amend  for  his 
fault,  at  the  battle  of  Platsea,  where  he  distinguished  himsel'" 
in  an  extraordinary  manner. — Xerxes,  enraged  to  the  lat 
degree  against  Leonidas,  for  daring  to  make  head  against 
him,  caused  his  dead  body  to  be  hung  upon  a  gallows,  and 
made  the  intended  dishonor  of  his  enemy  his  own  immortal 
disgrace. 

6.  Xerxes  lost  in  that  affair  above  20,000  men,  among 
whom  were  two  of  the  king's  brothers.  He  was  very  sensi- 
Dle,  that  so.  great  a  loss,  which  was  a  manifest  proof  of  the 
courage  of  their  enemies,  was  capable  of  alarming  and  dis- 
couraging his  soldiers.  In  order,  therefore,  to  conceal  the 
knowledge  of  it  from  them,  he  caused  all  his  men  that  were 
killed  in  that  action,  except  1,000,  whose  bodie?  he  ordered 
to  be  left  upon  the  field,  to  be  thrown  together  into  lar^ 
holes,  which  were  secretly  made,  and  covered  over  afterwar^^ 
with  earth  and  herbs.  This  stratagem  succeeded  very  ill ; 
for  when  the  soldiers  in  the  fleet,  being  curious  to  see  the 
field  of  battle,  obtained  leave  to  come  thither  for  that  pur- 
pose, it  served  rather  to  discover  his  own  littleness  of  soul, 
than  to  conceal  the  number  of  the  slain. 

7.  Dismayed  with  a  victory  that  had  cost  him  so  dear,  he 
asked  Demaratus,  if  the  Lacedaemonians  had  many  such  sol- 
diers. That  prince  told  him,  that  the  Spartan  republic  ha,d 
a  great  many  cities  belonging  to  it,  of  which  all  the  inhabit- 
ants were  exceeding  brave  ;  but  that  the  inhabitants  of  La- 
eedsemon,  who  were  properly  called  Spartans,  and  who  were 
about  8,000 in  number,  surpassed  all  the  rest  in  valor,  and  were 
dl  of  them  such  as  thojse  who  had  fought  under  Leonidas. 

8.  The  action  of  Leonidas,  with  his  300  Spartans,  was  not 
the  effect  of  rashness  or  despair  ;  but  was  a  wise  and  noble 
conduct,  as  Diodorus  Siculus  has  taken  care  to  observe,  in 


What  did  Xerxes- cause  to  be  done  with  the  dead  body  of  Leonidas  * 
-How  many  men  had  Xerxes  slain  in  the  battle  of  Thermopyles' 


BATTLE  OF  THERMOPYLiR 


47 


lit  and 

,     The 
I  body, 
pressed 
iped  to 
r  to  his 
•se  with 
i  for  his 
himseV 
the  lai 
against 
>ws,  and 
mmortal 

,  among 
ry  sensi- 
)f  of  the 
and  dis- 
iceal  the 
hat  were 
3  ordered 
nto  lar^ 
[fterwar^*. 

very  ill ; 

.  see  the 

|that  pur- 

of  soul, 

dear,  he 
such  sol- 
lublic  ha,d 
leinhabit- 
Its  of  La- 
Ivvhc  were 
and  were 
midas. 
[s,  was  not 
ind  noble 
[bserve,  in 


•1 


'Leonidiui^ 
lopyle? 


the  magnificent  encomium  upon  that  fkmous  engagement,  to 
which  he  ascribes  the  success  of  all  the  ensuing  victories 
nnd  campaigns.  Leonidas,  knowing  that  Xerxes  marched 
lit  the  head  of  the  forces  of  the  east,  in  order  lO  overwhelm 
and  crush  a  little  country  by  the  dint  of  his  numbers,  rightly 
conceived,  from  the  superiority  of  his  genius  and  understand- 
ing, that  if  they  pretended  to  make  the  success  of  that  wai 
consist  in  opposing  force  to  force,  and  numbers  to  numbers, 
all  the  Grecian  nations  together  Would  never  be  aWe  «6  equal 
the  Persians,  or  to  dispute  the  victory  with  them ;  that  it  was 
therefore  necessary  to  point  out  to  Greece  another  means  of 
safety  and  preservation,  whilst  she  was  under  th^se  alarms*; 
and  that  they  ought  to  show  the  whole  uriverse,  who  had  al' 
tlieir  eyes  upon  them,  what  glorious  things  may  be  done, 
when  greatness  of  mind  is  opposed  to  force  of  body,  true 
courage  and  bravery  against  blind  impetuosity,  the  love  of 
lil)erty  against  tyrannical  oppression,  and  a  few  disciplined 
veteran  troops  against  a  confused  multitude,  thovigh  ever  so 
numerous. 

9.  These  brave  Lacedtemomans  thought  it  became  them, 
who  were  the  choicest  soldiers  of  the  chief  people  of  Greece, 
to  devote  themselves  to  certain  death,  in  order  to  make  the 
Persians  sensible  how  difficult  it  is  to  reduce  freemen  to 
skvery  ;  and  to  teach  the  rest  of  Greece,  by  their  example, 
either  to  vanquish  or  to  perish.  The  event  proved  the  just- 
ness of  such  sentiments.  That  illustrious  example  of  cou- 
rage astonished  the  Persians,  and  gave  a  new  spirit  and  vigor 
to  the  Greeks.  The  lives  then  oi  this  heroic  leader  and  his 
brave  troops  were  not  thrown  away,  but  usefully  employed  ; 
and  their  death  was  attended  with  a  double  effect,  more  great 
and  lasting  than  themselves  had  imagined. 

10.  On  one  hand,  it  was  in  a  manner  the  seed  of  theii 
ensuing  victories,  which  made  the  Persians  for  ever  after  lay 
aside  all  thoughts  of  attacking  Greece ;  so  that,  during  the 
seven  or  eight  succeeding  reigns,  ther»5  was  neither  any 
prince,  who  durst  entertain  such  a  design,  nor  any  flatterer 
in  his  court  who  durst  propose  the  thing  to  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  such  a  signal  and  exemplary  instance  of  intre- 
pidity made  an  indelible  impression  upon  all  the  rest  of 
the  Grecians,  and  left  a  petsuasion  deeply  rooted  in  their 
hearts,  that  they  were  able  to  subdue  the  Persians,  and  sub- 
vert their  vast  «mpire.jg.Cimon  was  the  man  who  mad«  the 


-,"'  I  III  lyiMT 


•a^ 


I 


SOCRATES. 


first  attempt  of  that  kind  with  success.  Agesilaus  afterwards 
pushed  that  design  so  far,  that  he  made  the  great  monarch 
tremble  in  his  palace  at  Susa.  Alexander  at  last  accom- 
plished it  with  incredible  facility.  He  never  had  the  least 
doubt,  no  more  than  the  Macedonians  who  followed  him,  or 
the  whole  country  of  Greece  that  chose  him  general  in  that 
expedition,  but  that  with  30^000  men  he  could  reduce  the 
JPersian  empire,  300  Spartans  having  bcten  sufficient  to  check 
the  united  forces  of  the  whole  east. 

11.  The  brave  will  love  the  brave,  and  deep  revere ; 
Let  freemen  honor  with  a  brother's  tear 
That  king  of  freedom  and  his  Spartan  band 
Who  nobly  fought  to  save  their  native  land 
No  love  of  conquest  urg'd  them  to  invade ; 
They  fought  th*  invader,  and  they  fell  betray'd. 

Should  foemen  ml  our  country  with  alarms, 
Think  of  Thermopylae,  and  rouse  to  armti. 


SOCRATES. 

1.  SooFATEs,  the  famous  Greek  philosopher,  was  born  at 
Athens,  about  4b]  years  before  Christ.  He  gave  early  proofs 
of  his  valor  in  the  service  of  his  country ;  but  chiefly  applied 
himself  to  the  study  of  philosophy,  and  was  a  person  of  irre- 
sistible eloquence  and  accomplished  virtue.  His  distinguish- 
ing characteristic  was  a  perfect  tranquillity  of  mind,  which 
enabled  him  to  support,  with  patience,  the  mo«>t  troublesome 
accidents  of  life.  He  used  to  beg  of  those  with  whom  he 
usually  conversed,  to  put  him  on  his  guard,  the  moment  they 
perceived  in  him  the  first  emotions  of  anger ;  and  when  they 
did  Fo,  he  instantly  resumed  perfect  composure  and  compla- 
cency. His  wife^  Xantippe,  a  woman  of  the  most  whimsical 
and  provoking  temper,  afforded  him  sufficient  opportunity  of 
exercising  his  patience,  by  the  revilings  and  abuse  with  which 
she  was  constantly  loading  him. 

2.  Sjocrates  possessed,  in  a  superior  degree,  the  talf  nt  of 
reasoning.     His  principal  employment  was  the  instruction 

Where  &nd  when  wm  Socratea  bonx.? 


mmm 


\ 


Ibrwards 
monarch 
t  accom- 
the  least 
d  him,  or 
a]  in  that 
sduce  the 
t  to  check 


evere ; 


as  born  at 
arly  proofs 
fly  applied 
on  of  irre- 
istinguish- 
ind,  which 
oublesome 

whom  he 
)ment  they 
wlien  they 
id  compla- 

whimsical 
artunity  of 
with  which 


e  tal«nt  of 
instruction 


wmwmmm 


■tj>""«^^"»^wwi"'    I I". 


l^^' 


.r"' 


SOCRATES. 


49 


of  youth,  an  object  to  which  he  directed  all  his  care  and  at- 
tention. He  kept,  howeverf  no  fixed  public  school,  but  took 
every  opportunity,  without  regarding  times  or  places,  of  con- 
veying to  them  his  precepts,  and  that  in  the  most  enticingj 
agreeablr  manner.  His  lessons  were  so  universally  relished, 
that  the  rioment  he  appeared,  whether  in  the  public  assem- 
blies, walks,  or  feasts,  he  was  surrounded  with  a  throng  of 
the  most  illustrious  scholars  and  hearers.  The  young  Athe- 
nians quitted  even  their  pleasures  to  listen  to  the  discourse 
of  Socrates.       , 

3.  He  greatly  exerted  himself  against  the  power  of  the 
thirty  tyrants,  and  in  the  behalf  of  Theramenes,  whom  they 
had  condemned  to  death ;  insomuch  that  they  became  so 
alarmed  at  his  behavior,  that  they  forbade  him  to  instruct 
the  Athenian  youth.  Soon  after,  an  accusation  was  formally 
exhibited  against  him  by  Melitus,  containing  in  substance 
'  That  he  did  not  acknowledge  the  gods  of  the  republic,  but 
introduced  new  deities  in  their  room ;"  and  further,  "  that 
he  corrupted  the  youth."  He  urged,  in  his  defence,  that  he 
had  assisted,  as  others  did,  at  the  pacrifices  and  solemn  festi- 
vals. He  denied  his  endeavoring  to  establish  any  new  wor- 
ship. He  owned,  indeed,  he  had  received  frequent  admoni- 
tions from  a  divine  voice,  which  he  called  his  genius,  that  con- 
stantly attended  him,  and  discovered  to  him  future  events  ; 
that  he  had  often  made  use  of  this  divine  assistance  for  the 
service  of  himself  and  his  friends ;  but,  that  if  he  had  been 
thus  particularly  favored  by  Heaven,  it  was  owing  chiefly  to 
the  regularity  of  his  life  and  conduct ;  and  that  the  approba- 
tion of  the  Supreme  Being,  which  was  given  him  as  a  reward 
for  his  virtue,  ought  not  to  be  objected  to  him  as  his  crime. 

4»  Then,  as  to  the  other  article,  wherein  he  was  accused 
of  corrupting  the  youth,  and  teaching  them  tc  despise  the 
settled  laws,  and  order  of  the  commonwealth,  he  said,  he  had 
no  other  view  in  his  conversation  with  them,  than  to  regulate 
their  morals ;  that  as  he  could  not  do  this  with  any  public 
authority,  he  was  therefore  forced  to  insinuate  himself  into 
their  company,  and  to  use,  in  a  manner,  the  same  methods 
to  reclaim,  which  others  did  to  corrupt  them. 

5.  How  far  the  whole  charge  affected  him,  it  is  not  easy 
to  determine.     It  is  certain,  that  amidst  so  much  zeal  and 


What  Mere  the  charges  against  Sooratee  ? 


60 


SOCRATES. 


''M 


ll     I 


superstition  as  then  reigned  in  Athens,  he  never  durst  openly 
oppose  the  received  religion,  amd  was  therefore  obliged  to 
preserve  an  outward  show  of  it.  But  it  is  very  probable,  from 
the  discourses  he  frequently  held  with  his  friends,  that,  in  his 
heart,  he  despised  and  laughed  at  their  monstrous  opinions, 
and  ridiculous  mysteries,  as  having  no  other  foundation  than 
the  fables  of  the  poets ;  and  that  he  had  attained  to  a  notion 
of  the  one  only  true  God  ;  insomuch  that,  upon  the  account 
of  his  belief  of  the  Deity,  and  his  exemplary  life,  some  have 
thought  fit  to  rank  him  with  Christian  philosophers.  And 
indeed  his  behavior  upon  his  trial  was  more  like  that  of  a 
christian  martyr  than  of  an  impious  pagan ;  where  he  ap- 
peared with  such  a  composed  confidence,  as  naturally  results 
from  innocence ;  and  rather,  as  Cicero  observes,  as  if  he 
were  to  determine  upon  his  judges,  than  to  supplicate  them 
as  a  criminal. 

6.  But  how  slight  soever  the  proofs  were  against  him,  the 
faction  was  powerful  enough  to  find  him  guilty.  It  was  a 
privilege,  however,  granted  him,  to  demand  a  mitigation  of 
punishment — to  change  the  condemnation  of  death,  into  ba- 
nishment, imprisonment,  or  a  fine.  But  he  replied  generous- 
ly, that  he  would  choose  neither  of  those  punishments,  be- 
cause that  would  be  to  acknowledge  himself  guilty.  This 
answer  so  incensed  his  judges,  that  they  determined  he 
should  drink  the  hemlock,  a  punishment,  at  that  time,  much 
in  use  among  them.  Thirty  days  were  allowed  him  to  pre- 
pare to  die  ;  during  which  time,  he  conversed  with  his  friends 
vvith  the  same  evenness  and  serenity  of  mind  he  had  ever 
done  before.  And  though  they  had  bribed  the  jailer  for  hie 
escape,  he  refused  it,  as  an  ungenerous  violation  of  the  laws. 
He  was  about  seventy  years  old  when  he  suffered ;  whjch 
made  him  say,  he  thought  himself  happy  to  quit  life,  at  a 
time  when  it  begins  to  be  troublesome ;  and  that  his  death 
was  rather  a  deliverance  than  a  punishment 

7.  Cicero  has  described,  with  great  elegance,  the  lofty 
sentiments  and  magnanimous  behavior  of  Socrates.  While 
he  held  the  fatal  cup  in  his  hand,  he  declared,  that  he  con- 
sidered death  not  as  a  punishment  inflicted  on  him,  but  as  a 
he^p  furnished  him  of  arriving  so  much  sooner  at  heaven. 


^  What  privilege  watgranted  Socrates  on  beiiur  found  guilty  ? — How 
did  he  reply  to  this  offer  ? — In  what  manner  did  he  sufl^r  death  ? 


■ip 


■■ 


SOCRATES. 


51 


He  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that  upon  the  departure  of  our 
«ouls  from  our  bo<iies,  there  are  two  passages  for  conducting 
them  to  the  places  of  their  eternal  destination  ;  one  leading 
to  never  ending  punishment,  which  receives  those  souls,  that, 
during  their  residence  on  earth,  have  contaminated  them- 
selves with  many  great  crimes  ;  the  other,  leading  to  n  stilte 
of  felicity  and  bliss,  which  receives  the  souls  of  those  who 
have  lived  virtuously  in  the  world. 

8.  When  Socrates  had  finished  his  discourse,  he.  bathed 
himself.  His  children  being  then  brought  to  him,  he  spokv 
to  them  a  little,  and  then  desfred  them  to  be  taken  away. 
The  hour  appointed  for  drinking  the  hemlock  being  conic, 
they  brought  him  the  cup,  which  he  received  without  any 
emotion,  and  then  addressed  a  prayer  to  heaven.  It  is  highly 
reasonable,  said  he,  to  offer  my  prayers  to  the  Supreme  Bt^ing 
on  this  occasion,  and  to  beseech  him  to  render  my  departure 
from  earth,  and  my  last  journey,  happy.  Then  he  drank  of 
the  poison  with  amazing  tranquillity.  Observing  his  friends 
m  this  fatal  moment,  weeping,  and  dissolved  in  tears,  he  rr. 
proved  them  with  great  mildneps,  asking  them,  whether  the^ 
virtue  had  deserted  them  ;  "  for,"  added  he,  "I  have  alway;; 
heard,  that  it  is  our  duty  calmly  to  resign  our  breath,  giving 
thanks  to  God."  Af^er  walking  about  a  little  while,  perceiv- 
ing the  poison  beginning  to  work,  he  lay  down  on  his  couch, 
and,  in  a  few  moments  after,  breathed  his  last.  Cicero 
declares  that  he  could  never  read  the  account  of  the  death 
of  Socrates  without  shedding  tears. 

9.  Who  firmly  stood  in  a  corrupted  state, 
Against  the  rage  of  tyrants  single  stood, 
Invincible  ;  calm  Reason's  holy  law. 
That  voice  of  God  within  the  attentive  mind, 
Obeying  fearless,  or  in  life,  or  death — 
Great  Moral  Teacher  !  Wisest  of  Mankind  ! 

10.  Soon  after  his  death,  the  Athenians  were  convinced 
of  his  innocence,  and  considered  all  the  misfortunes  which 
afterwards  befel  the  republic,  as  a  punishment  for  the  injus- 
tice of  his  sentence.  When  the  academy,  and  the  other 
places  of  the  city  where  he  taught,  presented  themselves  to 
the  view  of  his  countrymen,  they  could  not  refrain  froio  re- 
flecting on  the  reward  bestowed  by  them,  on  one  whq  had 


52 


BATTLE  OF  MARATHON. 


done  them  sach  important  seryices.  They  caneelled  the  de- 
cree which  had  condemned  him ;  put  M elitus  to  death :  ba- 
nished his  other  acciuers ;  and  erected  to  his  memory  a  statue 
of  brass,  which  was  executed  by  the  famous  Lysippus. 


if'    'i 

if 


THE  SOCIAL  STATE. 

Man  in  society  is  like  a  flower 
Blown  in  its  native  bed — *tis  there  alone 
His  faculties,  expanded  in  full  bloom, 
Shine  out ;  there  only  reach  their  proper  use. 
But  man,  associated  and  leagued  with  man 
By  regal  warrant,  or  self-join*d  by  bond 
For  interest-sake,  or  swarming  into  clans 
Beneath  one  head  for  purposes  of  war, 
Like  flowers  selected  from  the  rest,  and  bound 
And  bundled  close  to  fill  some  crowded  vase, 
Fades  rapidly,  and,  by  compression  marr'd, 
Contracts  defilements  not  to  be  endur'd. 


BATTLE  OF  MARATHON. 

1.  The  Persian  army,  commanded  by  Datis,  consisted  of 
100,000  foot,  and  10,000  horse.  That  of  the  Athenians 
amounted  in  all  but  to  10,000  men.  This  had  ten  generals, 
of  whom  Miltiades  was  the  chief  j  and  these  ten  were  to 
have  the  command  of  the  whole  army,  each  for  a  day,  one 
after  another.  There  was  a  great  dispute  among  these  offi- 
cers, whether  they  should  hazard  a  battle,  or  expect  the  ene- 
my within  their  walls.  The  latter  opinion  had  a  great  ma- 
jority, and  appeared  very  reasonable ;  for  what  appearance 
of  success  could  there  be  in  facing,  with  a  handful  of  sol- 
diers, so  numerous  and  formidable  an  army  as  that  of  the 
Per»ans?  Miltiades,  however,  declared  for  the  contrary 
opinion ;  and  showed,  that  the  only  means  to  exalt  the  cou- 
rage of  their  own  troops,  and  to  strike  a  terror  into  those  of 

Who  oommandod  the  Persians  ? — How  numerous  were  the  Persian* 
rn  the  battle  of  Marathon  ? — How  many  were  in  the  Athenian  army  P 
•  Wlio  commanded  the  Athenians  ? 


BATTLE  OF  MARATHON. 


53 


the  enemy,  was  to  advance  boldly  towards  them  with  an  air 
of  confidence  and  intrepidity.  Aristides  strenuously  de- 
fended this  opinion,  and  brought  so  many  of  the  command- 
ers into  it,  that  it  finally  prevailed. 

2.  Aristides  reflecting,  that  a  command  which  changes 
every  day,  must  necessarily  be  feeble,  unequal,  not  of  a 
piece,  often  contrary  to  itself  and  incapable  either  of  pro^ 
jeciing  or  executing  any  uniform  design,  was  of  opinion  that 
their  danger  was  both  too  great  and  too  pressing  for  them  to 
expose  their  affairs  to  such  inconveniences.  In  order  to  pre- 
vent them,  he  judged  it  necessary  to  vest  the  whole  power  in 
one  single  person  ;  and,  to  induce  his  cc^eagues  to  act  con- 
formably, he  himself  set  the  first  example  of  resignation. 
When  the  day  came  on  which  it  was  his  turn  to  t^ke  upon 
him  the  command,  he  resigned  it  to  Miltiades,  as  the  more 
able  and  experienced  general.  The  other  commanders  did 
the  same,  all  sentiments  of  jealousy  giving  way  to  the  love  of 
the  public  good  ;  and  by  this  day's  behavior  we  may  learn, 
that  it  is  almost  as  glorious  to  acknowledge  merit  in  other 
persons,  as  to  have  it  in  one's  self. 

3.  Miltiades,  however,  thought  fit  to  wait  till  his  own  day 
came.  Then,  like  an  able  captain,  he  endeavored,  by  the 
advantage  of  the  ground,  to  gain  what  he  wanted  in  strength 
and  number.  He  drew  up  his  army  at  the  foot  of  a  moun- 
tain, that  the  enemy  sliould  not  be  able  either  to  surround 
him,  or  charge  him  in  the  rear.  On  the  two  sides  of  his 
army  he  caused  large  trees  to  be  thrown,  which  were  cut 
down  on  purpose,  in  order  to  cover  his  Hanks,  and  render  the 
Persian  cavalry  useless.  Datis,  their  commander,  was  very 
sensible  that  the  place  was  not  advantageous  for  him ;  but, 
relying  upon  the  number  of  his  troops,  which  was  infinitely 
superior  to  that  of  the  Athenians,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  not 
being  willing  to  stay  till  the  reinforcement  of  the  Spartans, 
he  determined  to  engage.  The  Athenians  did  not  wait  fcHr 
the  enemy's  charging  them.  As  soon  as  the  signal  was  given 
for  battle,  they  ran  against  the  enemy  with  all  the  fury  ima- 
ginable. 

4.  The  battle  was  very  fierce  and  obstinate.     Miltiades 

had  made  the  wings  of  his  arm}»  exceeding  strong,  but  had 

lefl  the  main  body  more  weak,  and  not  so  deep ;  the  reason 

of  which  seems  manifest  enough.    Having  but  10,000  men 

to  oppose  to  such  a  numerous  and  vast  army,  it  was  impoBS»* 
6 


T::r\ 


I    I. 


flii'i 


ii 


^      III 


54 


BATTLE  OF  MARATHON. 


ble  for  him  either  to  make  a  large  front,  or  to  give  an  equai 
depth  to  his  battalions.  He  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  take 
his  choice  ;  and  he  imagined,  that  he  could  gain  the  victory 
no  otherwise  than  by  the  eflforts  he  should  make  with  his  two 
wings,  in  order  to  break  and  disperse  those  of  the  Persians : 
not  doubting  but,  when  his  wings  were  once  victorious,  they 
would  be  able  to  attack  the  enemy's  main  flaiik.  and  com- 
plete the  victory  without  much  difficulty.  This  was  the  same 
plan  as  Hannibal  followed  afterwards  at  the  battle  of  Cannae, 
which  succeeded  so  well  with  him,  and  which  indeed  can 
scarce  ever  fail  of  succeeding. 

5.  The  Persians  then  attacked  the  main  body  of  the  Gre- 
cian army,  and  made  their  greatt^st  efforts  particularly  upon 
their  front.  This  was  led  by  Aristides  and  Themistocles, 
who  supported  it  a  long  time  with  an  intrepid  courage  and 
bravery ;  but  were  at  length  obliged  to  give  ground.  At  that 
very  instant  came  up  their  two  victorious  wings,  which  had 
defeated  those  of  the  enemy,  and  put  them  to  flight.  No- 
thing could  be  more  seasonable  for  ihe  main  body  of  the  Gre- 
cian army,  which  began  to  be  broken,  being  quite  borne 
down  by  the  numbers  of  the  Persians.  The  scale  was  quick- 
ly turned,  and  the  barbarians  were  entirely  routed.  They 
all  betook  themselves  to  their  heels,  and  fled,  not  towardii 
their  camp,  but  to  their  ships,  that  they  might  make  their  es- 
cape. The  Athenians  pursued  them  thither,  took  seven  of 
their  ships,  and  set  many  of  them  on  fire.  The  Athenians 
had  not  above  200  men  killed  in  this  engagement ;  whereas 
of  the  Persians  above  6,000  were  slain,  without  reckoning 
those  who  fell  into  the  sea  as  they  endeavored  to  escape,  or 
those  that  were  consumed  with  the  ships  set  on  fire. 

6.  Hippias  was  killed  in  the  battle.  That  ungrateful  and 
perfidious  citizen,  in  order  to  recover  the  unjust  dominion 
usurped  by  his  father,  Pisistratus,  over  the  Athenians,  had  the 
baseness  to  become  a  servile  courtier  to  a  barbarian  prince, 
and  to  implore  his  aid  against  his  native  country.  Urged  on  . 
by  hatred  and  revenge,  he  suggested  all  the  means  he  could 
invent  to  load  his  country  with  chains ;  and  even  put  himself 
at  the  head  of  its  enemies,  with  design  to  reduce  that  city  to 
ashes,  to  which  he  owed  his  birth,  and  against  which  he  had 


How  many  of  the  Athenians  were  slain  in  this  battle  ' — How  ni«ny 
of  the  Persians  P 


\X^ 


SENECA. 


65 


no  other  ground  of  complaint  than  that  she  would  not  ac* 
knowledge  him  for  her  tyrant.  An  ignominious  death,  to- 
gether with  everlasting  infamy  entailed  upon  his  name,  was 
die  just  reward  of  so  black  a  treachery. 

7.  It  is  almost  without  example,  that  such  a  handful  of 
men  as  the  Athenians  were,  should  not  only  make  head 
against  so  numerous  an  army  as  that  of  the  Persians,  but 
should  entirely  rout  and  defeat  them.  One  is  astonished  to 
see  so  formidable  a  power  attack  so  small  a  city,  and  miscar- 
ry ;  and  we  are  almost  tempted  to  disbelieve  the  truth  of  an 
event  that  appears  so  improbable,  and  which,  nevertheless, 
is  very  certain  and  unquestionable.  This  battle  alone  shows 
what  wonderful  things  tiay  be  performed  by  an  able  general, 
who  knows  how  to  tak-  his  advantages  ;  by  the  intrepidity 
of  soldiers,  who  are  not  afraid  of  dea^  ;  by  a  zeal  for  one^s 
country  ;  the  love  of  liberty  ;  an  hatred  and  detestation  of 
slavery  and  tyranny  ;  which  were  sentiments  natural  to  the 
Athenians,  but  undoubtedly  very  much  augmented  and  in- 
flamed in  them  by  the  very  presence  of  Hippias,  whom  they 
dreaded  to  have  again  for  their  master,  after  all  ♦^«*  bad 
naisfiAd  between  them. 


SENECA. 


l-Hotr  m»ny 


1.  Senega  was  born  in  Coriluba,  in  Spain,  about  the  be> 
ginning  of  the  Christian  era.  Though  he  was  bred  fo  the 
law,  his  genius  led  him  rather  to  philosophy,  and  he  applied 
his  wit  to  morality  and  virtue.  Notwithstanding  his  philo- 
sophic studies,  he  was  first  made  quaestor,  then  preetor,  and 
some  say  that  he  was  chosen  consul ;  but  whether  he  bore 
those  honors  before  or  after  his  banishment,  is  uncertain. 

2.  In  the  first  year  of  the  emperor  Claudius,  he  was  ba- 
nished into  Corsica,  when  Julia,  the  daughter  of  Germani- 
cus,  was  accused  by  Melssalina  of  adultery ;  Seneca  being 
charged  as  one  of  the  adulterers.  But  Messalina  dying,  and 
Agrippina  being  married  to  Claudius,  she  prevailed  upon  the 
emperor  to  recal  Seneca,  afler  he  had  lived  in  e^ile  about 

Where  was  Seneca  born  ? — When  ? — By  whom  was  ha  banished 
into  Corsica  ?— For  what  was  he  banished  ? 


i6 


SENEGAL 


r     ■ 


eight  years.  She  afterwards  recommended  him  as  tutor  to 
her  son  Nero.  Had  that  prince  attended  to  the  wisdom  of 
his  preceptor,  through  the  course  of  his  reign,  as  much  as  he- 
did  for  the  first  five  years  of  it,  he  would  have  been  the  rie- 
l»ght  instead  of  the  detestation  of  mankind. 

3.  Nero  condemned  Seneca  to  die,  under  pretence  that  he 
had  conspired  with  Piso,  to  deprive  him  of  the  governmen* 
The  manner  of  his  death  is  particularly  related  by  Tacitus. 
"  Now  follows,"  says  he,  "  the  death  of  Seneca,  to  Nero's 
great  satisfaction ;  not  because  it  appeared  that  he  was  of 
Piso's  conspiracy,  but  because  Nero  was  resolved  to  do  that 
by  the  sword,  which  he  could  not  effect  by  poison  ;  for  it  i» 
reported,  that  Nero  had  bribed  Cleonicus,  Seneca's  freed- 
man,  to  give  his  master  poison,  which  did  not  succeed  ;  for 
his  diet  was  very  simple.  He  lived  chiefly  upon  vegetables, 
and  seldom  drank  any  thing  but  water. 

4.  "  Natalis  was  sent  upon  a  visit  to  him  with  a  complaint, 
that  he  would  not  permit  Piso  to  visit  him.  To  whom  Sene- 
ca answered,  that  meetings  and  conferences  between  them 
could  do  neither  of  them  any  good,  but  that  he  had  a  great 
interest  in  Piso's  welfare.  Upon  this,  Granius  Silvanus,  a 
captain  of  the  guard,  was  senito  examine  Seneca  upon  the 
discourse  which  had  passed  between  him  and  Natalis,  and 
to  return  his  answer.  He  found  Seneca  at  supper  with  his 
wife,  Paulina,  and  two  of  his  friends,  and  immediately  gave 
him  an  account  of  his  con  lission.  Seneca  told  him  that  it 
was  true,  that  Natalis  had  been  with  him  in  Piso's  name,  with 
a  complaint  that  Piso  could  not  be  admitted  to  see  him,  and 
that  he  excused  himself  by  reason  of  his  want  of  health. 

5.  "  This  answer  of  Seneca  was  delivered  to  Caesar  in  the 
presence  of  Poppoea  and  Tigellinus,  the  intimate  confidants 
of  this  barbarous  prince  ;  and  Nero  asked  him,  whether  he 
could  gather  any  thing  from  Seneca;  as  if  he  intended  to  kill 
himself.  The  tribune's  answer  was,  that  he  did  not  find 
him  at  all  affected  with  the  message,  nor  so  much  as  change 
countenance  upon  it.  Go  back  to  him^then,  says  Nero,  and 
tell  him  that  he  is  condemned  to  die  ;  but  that  the  manner 
of  his  death  is  left  to  his  own  choice.     Seneca  received  the 


To  whom  wfts  Seneca  a  tutor  ? — Who  condemned  him  to  daatli  * 
Why  was  he  condemned  ? 


SENECA. 


r>7 


message  without  surprise  or  disorder ;  and  chose  to  die  by 
having  his  veins  opened  in  a  warm  bath. 

0.  "  On  the  day  of  his  death,  seeing  his  friends  very  much 
affected;  he  said  to  tliem — Where  is  all  your  philosophy  now  t 
Where  is  all  your  premeditated  resolutions  against  weakness 
of  behavior  T  Is  there  any  man  so  ignorant  of  Nero'a  cru- 
elty, as  to  expect,  after  the  murder  of  his  mother,  and  his 
brother,  that  he  should  spare  the  life  of  his  tutor  1" 

7.  After  some  general  expressions  to  this  purpose,  he  took 
his  wife  in  his  arms,  and  having  somewhat  fortified  her 
against  the  present  calamity,  he  besought  and  coloured  her 
to  moderate  her  sorrows  and  betake  herself  to  the  contempla- 
tion and  comforts  of  a  virtuous  life,  which  would  be  ample 
compensation  to  her  for  the  loss  of  her  husband.  Paulina, 
on  the  other  hand,  said,  she  was  determined  to  bear  him 
company  ;  and  ordered  the  executioner  to  do  his  duty. 

8.  Accordingly,  the  veins  of  both  their  arms  were  opened 
at  the  same  time.  But  after  Paulina  had  bled  for  a  consi- 
derable time,  Nero  gave  orders  to  prevent  her  death,  for  fear 
his  cruelty  should  grov/  more  insupportable  and  odious. 
Whereupon  the  soldiers  gave  all  freedom  and  encouragement 
to  her  servants  to  bind  up  the  wounds,  and  to  stop  the  blood  ; 
but  whether  at  the  time  they  were  doing  it,  she  was  sensiblje 
of  it,  is  a  question.  She  survived  her  husband  for  some 
years,  with  all  respect  to  his  memory  ;  but  so  miserably  paie 
and  wan,  that  every  body  might  read  the  loss  of  her  blood 
and  spirits  in  her  very  countenance. 

9.  Seneca  was  an  excellent  moralist,  and  a  sound  philoso- 
pher ;  but  he  does  not  make  so  considerable  a  figure  as  a 
poet,  and  a  writer  of  tragedies.  His  sentiments,  indeed,  are 
sublime,  and  his  images  lively  and  poetical ;  but  both  the  fable 
and  the  execution  of  his  plays  are  irregular.  He  wants  that 
noble  simplicity,  and  pathetic  manner,  which  recommended 
Euripides ;  and  he  seems  to  have  written  more  for  the  use 
of  the  closet,  than  of  the  stage. 

In  v'hat  nAnner  was  Seneca  executed  ? 
6t 


HI 


^ir 


U   ■' 

$i 

w 
■  t 

'ki. 


THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 
PATRIOTISM. 


1 .  Thbt  praise  and  they  admire  they  know  not  what 
And  know  not  whom,  but  as  one  leads  the  other ; 

And  what  delight  to  be  by  such  extolled, 
To  live  upon  their  tongues  and  be  their  talk, 
Of  whom  to  be  dispraised  is  no  small  praise  t 
His  lo^  who  dares  be  singularly  good, 
Th*  intelligent  among  them  and  the  wise 
Are  few,  and  glory  scarce  of  few  is  raised. 
This  is  true  glory  and  renown,  when  God 
Jjooking  on  the  earth,  with  approbation  marks 
The  just  man,  and  divulges  him  through  heaven 
To  all  his  angels,  who  with  true  applause 
Recount  his  praises. 

2.  They  err  who  count  it  glor.'ous,  to  subdue 
By  conquest  far  and  wide,  to  overrun 

Large  countries,  and  in  fields  great  battles  win, 
Great  cities  by  assault ;  what  do  these  worthies 
But  rob  and  spoil,  burn,  slaughter  and  enslave 
Peaceable  nations,  neighboring  or  remote, 
Made  captive,  yet  deserving  freedom  more 
Than  those  their  conquerors,  who  leave  behind 
Nothing  but  ruin  wheresoe'er  they  rove, 
And  all  their  flourishing  works  of  peace  destroy. 
Then  swell  W'th  pride,  and  must  be  titled  gods. 
Great  Benefactors  of  mankind,  Deliverers, 
Worshipped  with  temple,  priest  and  sacrifice ! 
One  is  the  son  of  Jove,  of  Mars  the  other  ; 
Till  conqueror  Death  discovers  them  scarce  men, 
Rolling  in  brutish  vices,  and  deformed, 
Violent  or  shameful  death  their  due  reward. 


THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 

1.  It  is  supposed  that  Carthage  had  its  origin  abo  it  one 
hundred  years  before  Romulus  began  the  building  of  Rome, 
and  eight  hundred  and  fifty  years  before  the  Christian  era. 
The  founders  of  it  were  a  company  of  Phoenicians.    Dido, 


By  whom,  and  when,  was  Carthage  founded 


THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


50 


what 


•VX' 


1  abc  It  one 
ig  of  Rome, 
hristian  era. 
lans.    Dido, 


lo  6Bcape  the  cruelty  of  her  brother  Pygmalion,  king  of  Tyre, 
who  had  murdered  her  husband  Sichsus,  sailed  with  a  com- 
pany of  faithful  adherents,  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  and  there 
naving  landed,  founded  a  city,  that  afterwards  vied  with  the 
most  powerful  and  magnificent  on  earth.  The  city  of  Car- 
thage stood  at  the  bottom  of  a  gulf,  on  a  peninsula,  near  the 
place  where  now  stands  the  city  of  Tunis  ;  and  the  territory 
of  Carthage  was  about  the  same  that  now  constitutes  the 
kingdom  of  Tunis.  Carthada,  or  Carthage,  in  the  Phoeni- 
cian and  Hebrew  language,  means  a  new  city. 

2.  Many  of  the  neighboring  people,  invited  by  ithe  proa- 
pect  of  lucre,  repaired  to  Carthage,  to  sell  to  these  foreigners 
the  necessaries  of  life,  and  shortly  after  incorporated  them- 
selves with  them.  These  inhabitants,  who  had  been  thus 
gathered  from  different  places,  soon  became  numerous.  Al- 
though the  early  history  of  this  people  is  necessarily,  like 
that  of  most  ancient  states,  involved  in  much  obscurity,  yet 
there  is  reason  to  believe  the  city  was  continually  enlarging 
her  borders,  and  adding  to  her  wealth.  At  the  time  of  her 
greatest  splendor,  the  city  itself  occupied  the  space  of  twenty- 
three  miles  in  circumference,  was  surrounded  by  three  waJls, 
and  contained  seven  hundred  thousand  inhabitants. 

3.  The  Carthaginians  were  indebted  to  the  Tyrians,  nof 
only  for  their  origin,  but  for  their  manners,  language,  cus- 
toms, laws,  religion,  and  their  great  application  to  commerce,, 
as  will  appear  in  every  part  of  their  history.  They  spoke 
the  same  language  with  the  Tyrians,  and  these  the  same  with 
the  Canaanites  and  Israelites,  that  is,  the  Hebrew  tongue,  or 
at  least  a  language  that  was  entirely  derived  from  it.  And 
the  Carthaginians  were  never  forgetful  of  the  country  from 
whence  they  came,  and  to  which  they  owed  their  origin. 
They  feent  regularly  every  year  to  Tyre  a  ship  freighted  with 
presents  as  an  acknowledgment  paid  to  their  ancient  coun- 
try ;  and  tl»ey  never  failed  to  send  thither  the  first  fruits  of 
their  revenues — nor  the  tithes  of  the  spoils  taken  from  their 
enemies,  as  ofTerings  to  Hercules,  one  of  the  principal  gods 
of  tliat  city. 

4.  Monarchy  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  original  govern- 

What  circumstances  gave  rise  to  the  building  of  Carthage  ? — What 
was  the  condition  of  Carthago  at  the  time  of  her  greatest  splen- 
dor r — What  was  the  languagQ  of  the  Carthaginians  ' 


mmmm 


'"■'ipfw" 


'W  '• 


m 


THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


II 


i 


!  ! 


ment  of  Carthage ;  neith(;r  is  it '  khown  at  what  period  it 
assumed  the  form  of  a  republic.  It  is,  however,  generally 
allowed,  that  the  republic  consisted  of  the  people,  a  very  nu- 
merous senate,  and  two  sit^eies,  or  presiding  magistrates. 
These  sufietes  corresponded  in  rank  and  power  with  the 
consuls  at  Rome  and  kings  at  Macedon  ;  but  Were  not,  like 
the  latter,  chosen  for  life.  They  were  elected  from  among 
the  richest  citizens,  that  they  might  be  the  better  able  U) 
support  their  dignity  with  splendor.  The  election  of  n 
senator  depended  upon  the  voice  of  the  people,  and  the  sena- 
tors themselves ;  but  the  manner  of  their  being  chosen  is 
unknown.  When  the  votes  of  the  senate  were  unanimous, 
they  possessed  the  power  of  giving  laws.,  from  which  there 
was  no  appeal.  But.  when  the  sutfrages  were  divided,  or 
when  the  sufi'ctes  stood  alone,  the  decision  WaS  referred  to 
the  people,  who  then  gave  the  final  decree. 

5.  The  commerce  of  Carthage  was  the  principal  cause  of  her 

fi'eatness  and  wealth — her  fleets  covered  every  coast ;  and  by 
aving  the  sovereignty  of  the  sea,  for  more  than  six  centuries, 
she  monopolized,  in  no  small  degree,  the  commercial  interests 
of  tJie  whole  world.  But  what  commerce  was  to  the  wealth  of 
Carthage,  Hannibal  was  to  her  military  glory.  Under  him,  she 
acquired  a  name  more  durable  than  brass.  At  the  age  of  nine 
years,  he  is  said  to  have  taken  an  oath  of  eternal  enmity  to 
the  Romans ;  and  the  indefatigable  perseverance  with  which 
he  ever  aimed  at  their  destruction  proved  his  sincerity.  He 
subdued  all  the  nations  of  Spain  that  resisted  the  Carthagi- 
nian power ;  and  after  eight  months*  siege,  took  the  city  of 
Saguntum.  This  city  was  in  alliance  with  the  Romans ;  and 
it8  inhabitants  were  so  attached  to  the  Roman  interests,  that, 
rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies,  they  set  fire 
to  iheir  houses  and  other  effects,  and  perished  in  the  flames^ 

6.  The  capture  of  Saguntum  is  more  celebrated  lor  its 
being  the  commencement  of  the  second  Punic  war,  than  for 
the  magnitude  of  the  city,  or  the  force  necessary  to  its  reduc- 
tion. It  is  nevertheless  sufficiently  memorable,  when  taken 
in  connexion  with  the  battle  of  Canns,  that  immediately  fol- 
lowed it,  to  give  Hannibal  a  place  among  the  most  distin- 
guished warriors.    The  victory  of  Cannae  is  not  only  ons 


«r 


To  what  may  the  greatneis  and  wealth  of  Carthago  be  attributed  ? 
Under  what  general  did  the  Carthaginians  obtain  a  military  nanM  ^ 


""WI»i»IHWW" 


mm 


THE  CARTHAGINIANS. 


61 


ii^ 


{neriod  it 
gcnetally 
&  very  nu- 
agistrates. 
'  with  the 
5  not,  like 
)m  among 
ter  able  U) 
ition  of  'A 
[  the  sena- 
chosen  ia 
inanimou9, 
hich  there 
divided,  or 
referred  to 

;auseofher 
ist ;  and  by 
:  centuries, 
al  interests 
e  wealth  of 
er  him,  she 
age  of  nine 

enmity  to 
with  which 
leritv.  He 
B  Carthagi- 
the  city  of 
mans;  and 
erests,  that, 
;hey  set  fire 

the  flamesi 
ited  for  its 
ar,  than  for 
o  its  red  110- 
ivhen  taken 
3diately  fol- 
nost  distin- 
)t  only  one 

_        1        II  -     -  -  — 

te  attributed  P 
ilitary  nan)«  ^ 


of  the  most  splendid  achievements  in  the  Carthaginian  hero, 
but  it  is  also  one  of  the  most  splendid  achievements  recorded 
in  the  history  of  warfare.  The  whole  army  of  Hannibal  did 
not  exceed  50,000 ;  but  so  well  directed  were  all  his  move- 
ments, that  no  tess  than  40,000  Romans  were  slain.  This 
victory,  although  complete,  proved  of  little  use  to  the  Cartha- 
ginians. The  Romans,  to  free  themselves  from  Hannibal, 
determined,  on  invading  his  own  dominions.  When  Carthage 
saw  her  coasts  invaded,  she  recalled  Hannibal,  as  it  had  been 
calculated  by  the  Romans  that  she  would. 

7.  Hannibal  left  Italy,  which  be  had  kept  under  perpetual 
alarms  for  sixteen  years,  with  the  greatest  reluctance.  He 
seemed  aware  of  the  reverse  of  fortune  that  soon  awaited 
him.  Shortly  after  his  return  to  Africa,  the  two  hostile  ar- 
mies met  at  Zama,  where  was  a  general  engagement.  The 
Roman  victory  was  complete — ^33,000  Carthaginians  w<ire 
slain,  and  as  many  more  taken  prisoners.  After  this  decisive 
battle, 'Hannibal  seemed  convinced  of  his  own  inability  to 
revenge  his  country's  wrongs ;  and  therefore  employed  him- 
self in  persuading  the  neighboring  princes  to  make  war 
against  the  Romans.  But  not  succeeding  in  his  attempts, 
and  the  Roman  senate  being  apprised  of  his  designs,  and 
sending  to  Bithynia  to  demand  him  of  Prusias,  Hannibal 
terminated  his  own  life  by  poison. 

8.  The  city  and  republic  of  Carthage  were  destroyed  by 
the  termination  of  the  third  Punic  U'ar,  147  years  before 
Christ.  The  city  was  in  flames  during  seventeen  days;  and 
the  news  of  its  destruction  caused  the  greatest  joy  at  Rome. 
The  Roman  senate  immediately  appointed  commissioners, 
not  only  to  raze  the  walls  of  Carthage,  but  even  to  demolish 
and  burn  the  very  materials  of  which  they  were  made  ;  and 
in  u  few  days,  that  city,  which  had  once  been  the  seat  of 
commerce,  the  model  of  magnificence,  the  common  store- 
house of  the  wealth  of  nations,  and  one  of  the  most  power- 
ful fetates  in  the  world,  lefl  behind  no  traces  of  its  splendor, 
of  its  power,  or  even  of  its  existence.  The  history  of  Car- 
thage is  one  of  the  many  proofs  that  we  have  df  the  transi- 
tory nature  of  worldly  glory ;  for  of  all  her  gt^iideur;  ]M>t  a 

^"      ■         '         '■'  I—  ■'  *  ■■■■■■  il«»l«MM»..»    lO     ■    I...II        I    III  I  .1  Will  —■■I.  II.  .1      ■^— — ^l^i^i— ^— ^M^— *fc> 

How  many  of  the  Romans  were  killed  in  the  battle  of  CannoB  ? — 
How  many  of  the  Carthaginians  were  slain  and  taken  prisoners  in 
the  battle  of  Zama  ? — What  were  the  circumstances  of  Hannibal's 
death  ? — When  was  the  city  of  Carthags  destroyed  ? 


■p 


PP""» 


03 


THE  WARRIOR'S  WREATH. 


wreck  remains.  Her  own  walls,  lik?  the  calm  ocean,  that 
conceals  for  ever  the  riches  hid  in  its  u.a8earch\ble  abyss,  now 
obscure  all  her  magnificence. 


ii? 


tHE  WARRIOR'S  WREATH. 

Behold  the  wreath  which  decks  the  warrior's  brow* 
Breathes  it  a  balmy  fragrance  sweet  ?  Ah,  no ! 

It  rankly  savors  of  the  grave  ! 
'Tis  red — but  not  with  roseate  hues ; 

'Tis  crimson'd  o'er 

With  human  gore ! 
Tis  wet — but  not  with  heavenly  dews ; 

Tis  drench'd  in  tears  by  widows,  orphans  shed. 
Methinks  in  sable  weeds  I  see  them  clad. 

And  mourn  in  vain,  for  husbands  slain, 
Children  belov'd,  or  brothers  dear. 

The  fatherless 

In  deep  distress, 
Despairing,  shed  the  scalding  tear. 

I  hear,  ^mid  dying  groans,  the  cannon's  crash, 
I  see,  'mid  smoke,  the  musket's  horrid  flash — 

Here  famine  walks — there  carnage  stalks- 
Hell  in  her  fiery  eye,  she  stains 

With  purple  blood, 

The  crystal  flood. 
Heaven's  altars  and  the  ve!dant  plains ! 

Scenes  of  domestic  peace  and  socio!  bliss 
Are  chang'd  to  scenes  of  wo  and  wretchednJM, 

The  votaries  of  vice  increase- 
Towns  sack'd,  whole  cities  wrapt  in  flame  ! 

Just  Heaven  !  say, 

Is  this  the  baif 
Which  warriors  gain— is  this  call'd  FAME  1 


;A^iJW,Wf' n.,j  "ji"Hi"imJ    II  iljwiwp, 


imU-  .a^ii<} 


■'* 


wm 


o 

S 

o 


SOLOMON'S  TEMPLE.  ' 

SOLOMON'S  TEMPLE. 

L  T^B  peace  and  prosperity  of  Solomon's  reign  were  wef 
idaptedto  the  prosecution  of  that  woi:k  which  p^vid  liac 
designed,  but  which  was  to  be  accomplished, by  his  f ]uccew» 
or.  The  king,  therefore,  took  advant-iigo  of  the  time,  and 
made  preparations  for  building  the  house  of  the  Lord.  In 
the  first  place,  he  sent  messengers  to  Hir,am,  king  of  Tyre, 
who  had  been  the  friend  of  his  father,  informing  him  ot  hii 
intentions,  and  requesting  from  him  a  supply  of  cedar  and  fir. 
This  was  readily  and  cheerfully  bestowed,  and  the  two  kinga 
entered  into  a  covenant  of  perpetual  peace  and  friendship. 
.  Solomon  then  levied  thirty  thousand  workmen,  and  arranged 
them  in  three  companies  often  thousand  each,  giving  to 
Adoniram,  one  of  his  ofiicers,  the  oversight  and  command 
of  the  whole. 

2.  These  laborers  were  to  Ife  employed,  with  the  servanti 
of  Hiram,  in  Mpunt  Lebanon ;  but  only  one. company  wai 
sent  out  at  a  time,  which  remained  for  a  month,  and  then  re« 
turned  home,  and  was  succeeded  by  another.  In  carrying 
on  the  work,  there  were,  also,  seventy  thousand  whose  duty 
it  was  to  bear  burdens,  and  eighty  thousand  who  were  em- 
ployed as  hewers  of  stone  in  the  mountains.  The  number 
of  overseers  amounted  to  thirty-three  thousand.  This  mag- 
nificent undertaking  was  Commenced  in  the  fourth  year  of 
Solomon's  reign,  four  hundred  and  forty  years  from  the  time 
of  the  Settlement  of  the  Israelites  in  the  land  pf  Canaan  ;  and 
the  building  was  completed,  in  all  its  parts,  in  seven  years, 
daring  which,  the  sound  of  axe,  or  hammer,  or  any  tool  of 
iron,  was  not  heard  upon  it,  the  timber  being  a|l,  made  rea4y 
in  the  forest,  and  the  stones  in  the  quarrjie^* 

3.  Solomon,  also,  built  for  himself  two  very  superb,  and 
costly  palaces,  together  with  a  house  of  equal  beauty  suod 
splendor  for  the  queen.  In  completing  the  temple,  a  distm" 
guished  artisan  from  Tjrre,  by  the  name  of  Hiram,  had  been 
employed  who  cast  two  pillars  of  brass,  each  eighteen  cubits 
in  heighi,  upon  which  were  raised  chapiters,  adorned  with 
lily  work,  net  work,  and  pomegranates.    Th^se  pillars  wei^ 

What  in  Soloraon's  reign  was  well  suited  to  the  building  of  tht 
templu  P — Who  assiated  Solomon  in  buildinff  the  temple  ? — How  many 
penonn  wera  employed  in  the  building  of  the  temple  ?— How  long 
time  wa«  epent  in  it  ? 


.•imuiiiiii/ji.p 


64 


.    SOLOMON'S  TEMPLE. 


placed  at  the  entran^/C  of  the  porch,  one  upon  the  right  hand 
and  the  other  upon  ih?.  left. 

4.  Hiram,  also,  made  all  the  vessels  and  instruments  which 
were  to  be  used  in  the  services  of  the  sanctuary  ;  and  thus 
tKe  building  became  ready  for  the  devotions  and  offerings  of 
the  people.  Solomon  then  caused  the  ark  to  be  removed  to 
the  place  which  he  had  prepared  for  it  in  the  temple,  upon 
which  the  glory  of  the  Lord  filled  the  house,  and  the  king 
proceeded  to  the  dedication  in  a  solemn  and  fervent  prayer, 
in  which  he  implored  the  divine  favor  upon  the  work  of  his 
hands,  and  the  services  to  which  it  was  appropriated.  He 
concluded  with  a  blessing  which  he  pronounced  upon  tlie 
congregation ;  and  after  offering  a  vast  number  of  sacrifices, 
and  keeping  a  feast  to  the  Lord  seven  days,  he  dismissed  the 
people,  who  returned  to  their  habitations,  rejoicing  in  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  praising  the  merits  of  their  king. 

5.  Not  long  after  the  dedication  of  the  temple,  the  Lord 
appeared  a  second  time  to  Solomon,  and  told  him  that  he 
had  heard  and  accepted  his  prayer  and  supplication,  and  that 
his  favor  should  for  ever  rest  upon  the  house  which  had  beep 
built.  He  declared,  moreover,  that  the  continuance  of  the 
government  in  the  family  of  David  would  be  dependent  upon 
the  constancy  and  fidelity  with  which  the  divine  laws  were 
observed.  At  the  expiration  of  tjp'enty  years,  probably,  from 
the  time  of  Solomon's  coronation,  a  present  was  made  by 
him  to  Hiram,  king  of  Tyre,  of  ccTtain  cities,  in  return  for 
his  assistance  in  building  the  temple,  with  which  the  latter 
was  not  well  pleased ;  wherefore,  that  part  of  the  country 
was  called  Cabul,  a  name  denoting  dissatisfaction.  Solomon 
then  applied  himself  to  the  building,  repairing,  and  fortifying 
of  various  towns  within  his  dominions ;  engaging,  also,  ex- 
tensively in  commerce,  and  sending  his  ships  to  Ophir  for 
gold. 

6.  Among  the  persons  who  came  from  distant  parts  to  wit- 
ness the  glory,  and  to  be  edified  with  the  wisdom  of  Solo- 
mon, was  the  queen  of  Sheba,  who  resolved  to  make  trial  of 
his  understanding  by  proposing  for  his  solution  many  dii&- 
eult  questions  upon  various  subjects.  The  answers  of  the 
king  not  only  gave  satisfaction  to  her  mind,  but  filled  her 


What  remimeration  did  Solomon  make  Hiram  for  hii  aid  in  bnild- 
tai;  the  templd  ^ 


w^ 


"W^ 


■■«■ 


REVOLT  OF  THE  TEN  TRUES. 


66 


bt  hand 

3  which 
nd  thus 
rings  of 
loved  to 
le,  upon 
he  king 
prayer, 
c  of  his 
id.  He 
pon  t5ie 
Lcrifices, 
issed  the 
[  in  the 
ng. 

he  Lord 
that  he 
and  that 
lad  beep, 
e  of  the 
ent  upon 
ws  were 
)ly,  from 
made  by 
eturn  for 
he  latter 
country 
Solomon 
brtifying 
also,  ex- 
)phir  for 

ts  to  wit- 
of  Solo- 
e  trial  of 
my  diflir 
rs  of  the 
Uled  her 


d  in  bnild- 


with  astonishment  and  admiration  ;  and  having  made  hifn  a 
valuable  present  of  gold  and  spices,  she  returned  to  her  own 
country,  with  the  most  exalted  opinion  of  his  knowledge 
and  power.  With  the  fame  of  Solomon,  his  riches  also  in 
creased  ;  ibr  his  vessels  brought  him  an  abundance  of  gold, 
insomuch  that  it  was  applied  to  the  most  common  uses,  sil- 
ver being  held  in  no  estimation.  In  short,  the  richest  gifts 
poured  in  upon  him  from  every  country  ;  and  to  obtain  his 
friendship,  and  to  see  his  face,  was  the  prevailing  ambition 
of  the  princes  and  philosophers  of  the  age. 

7.  But  such  is  the  imperfection  of  the  human  character, 
that  even  Solomon,  surrounded  as  he  was  with  every  bless- 
ing, and  exalted  to  the  highest  summit  of  earthly  glory,  for- 
sook, at  last,  the  Lord,  his  benefactor,  and  went  after  the  gods 
of  the  heathen.  The  close  of  his  life  was  disgraced  by  idola- 
try, to  which  he  was  turned  by  the  temptations  and  artifices 
of  his  wives.  Thus  he  provoked  the  anger  of  the  Almighty, 
who  declared  to  him,  that,  as  a  punishment  for  his  wicked- 
ness, the  government  should,  in  part,  be  taken  away  from  his 
family. 

S.  In  addition  to  this,  enemies  were  raised  up  against  him, 
and  the  remainder  of  his  days  was  clouded  with  care  and 
sorrow.  Among  his  foes,  was  one  by  the  name  of  Jerobo- 
am, who  was  the  son  of  Nebat,  a  ber'v">,nt  of  Solomon.  Thia 
man  had  received  from  the  prophet  Ahijah,  an  intimation 
that  he  was  destined  to  the  throne ;  in  consequence  of  which, 
he  attempted  to  alienate  the  affections  of  the  people  from 
their  sovereign.  When  the  king  became  acquainted  with 
what  had  taken  place,  he  concerted  a  plan  to  destroy  Jero- 
boam, but  the  latter  prevented  its  execution  by  fleeing  into 
Egypt,  where  he  remained  till  the  death  of  Solomon,  which 
happened  soon  after.  He  died  in  the  fifty-eighth  year  of  his 
age,  having  reigned  forty  years,  and  was  buried  in  the  sepul- 
chre of  his  father,  in  the  city  of  David. 


REVOLT  OF  THE  TEN  TRIBES. 

1.  After  the  death  of^  Solomon,  the  people  assembled  at 
Shechem,  to  make  his  son  Rehoboam  king.    They  had  pre-   jBfc 

Who  succeeded  Solomon  ? 


■■Hi 


wmfmm 


15 


R5P3LT  OF  THE  TEN  TRIBEb. 


wiomaIj  flent  to  Egypt  for  Jeroboam,  who  had  returned  and 
Was  present  with  them  upon  the  occasion.  Before  proceed- 
ing to  the  acknowledgment  and  anointing  of  the  son  of  Solo- 
mon, they  determined  to  ascertain  whether  he  was  disposed 
to  release  them  from  the  burdens  under  which  they  had  suf- 
fered in  the  former  reign ;  and  to  this  end,  they  sent  to  him  a 
deputation,  with  Jeroboam  at  the  head  of  it,  to  obtain  from  him 
a  promise  that,  on  his  advancement  to  the  throne,  he  would 
redress  their  grievances.  Rehoboam  immediately  summon- 
ed a  council  of  old  experienced  men,  to  whom  he  communi- 
cated the  message  he  had  recrjved,  and  requested  their  opi- 
nion in  regard  to  the  answer  which  he  ought  to  give.  They 
advised  him,  without  hesitation,  to  comply  with  the  wishes 
of  the  people ;  but  instead  of  regarding  their  direction,  he 
referred  the  subject  to  the  determination  of  some  of  hift 
young  and  thoughtless  companions. 

2.  By  these  he  was  told  to  pay  no  respect  to  the  complaints 
or  feelings  of  the  people  ;  but  to  state  to  their  messengers, 
that  so  far  from  lessening  the  evils  which  they  represented, 
he  would  greatly  increase  them.  This  advice,  which  was 
agreeable  to  his  own  sentiments,  he  imprudently  followed ; 
in  consequence  of  which,  ten  tribes  immediately  revolted 
from  the  house  of  David,  and  made  Jeroboam  their  king. 
The  nation  thus  became  divided  into  two  parts,  of  which  the 
one  was  designated  by  the  name  of  Israel,  and  the  other  by 
that  of  Judah.  The  tribe  of  Judah  retained  the  adherence 
of  the  Benjamites,  but  there  were  comparatively  so  few  of 
the  latter,  that  both  families  were  included  under  one  general 
appellation. 

3.  Rehoboam,  upon  this  unexpected  defection,  sent  Ado- 
ram,  who  was  over  the  tribute,  to  collect  from  the  Israelites 
their  accustomed  taxes ;  but  the  enraged  multitude  stoned 
him  to  death.  He  then  hastened  with  all  speed  up  to  Jer u- 
flalem,  where  he  assembled  a  large  force  of  the  men  of  Ju- 
dah and  Benjamin,  and  prepared  to  give  battle  to  Jeroboam, 
that  he  might  thus  bring  back  the  rebel  tribes  to  their  alle- 
giance. His  intentions  were,  however,  frustrated ;  for  the 
word  of  the  Lord  came  to  him  by  the  prophet  Shemaiah,  for- 

Whiit  caused  the  Ten  Tribes  of  Israel  to  revolt  from  Judah  ? — Who 
#||    beoaihe  kin^  of  Israel  ? — ^Which  Tribe  continued  to  adhere  to  Judah  ? 
^^   —-What  of  importance  happened  to  Jerusalem  in  the  reign  of  Reho* 
bpam? 


REVOLT  OF  THE  TEN  TklBES. 


«7 


bidding  him  to  take  up  arms,  and  declaring  that  the  evtoit 
which  had  occurred  was  according  to  the  divine  will. 

4.  From  this  time  there  is  but  little  recorded  of  the  reign 
of  Rehoboam.  His  subjects  became  exceedingly  vicious 
and  depraved,  and  abandoned  themselves  to  idolatry  and  all 
manner  of  wickedness ;  in  consequence  of  which,  the  king 
of  Egypt  was  sent  against  them,  who  took  the  city  of  Jen»- 
salem,  and  robbed  the  temple  and  the  palace  of  their  trea- 
sures, and  carried  away  the  shields  of  gold  which  Solomon 
had  made  ;  in  the  place  of  which  the  king  substituted  othcra 
of  brass.  Rehoboam  was  forty-one  years  old  when  he  began 
to  reign,  and  he  continued  on  the  throne  seventeen  years,  ai 
the  expiration  of  which  he  died,  and  was  buried  with  hit 
fathers.     He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Abijam. 

5.  The  revolted  Israelites  under  Jeroboam  did  not  exceed 
their  brethren  of  Judah  in  virtue  and  piety. — ^The  king,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  people  from  going  up  to  Jerusalem  to 
sacrifice,  which  h«  supposed  they  would  be  inclined  to  do 
from  their  former  habits,  and  their  reverence  for  the  tempk 
and  the  ark,  made  two  golden  calves,  the  one  of  which  btt 
placed  in  Dan,  and  the  other  in  Bethel,  the  northern  and 
southern  extremities  of  his  dominions.  He  dso  established 
festivals  to  be  observed  on  the  same  days  with  those  of  J^ 
rusalem,  and  advanced  to  the  priesthood  the  lowest  of  tkt 
people,  who  were  not  of  the  house  of  Levi.  In  these  ways 
he  made  Israel  to  sin,  and  provoked  the  severe  displeasure 
of  the  Lord. 

6.  On  a  certain  day,  as  Jeroboam  stood  by  the  idol  whi<^ 
he  had  erected  at  Bethel,  impiously  executing  the  office  of  a 
priest,  by  burning  incense,  a  prophet  of  GcS  came  thither 
from  Judah  and  denounced  a  heavy  wo  upon  the  altar,  and 
upon  those  who  should  sacrifice  upon  it,  which  he  declared 
should  be  accomplished  in  the  reign  of  a  future  {prince  by 
the  name  of  Josiah  ;  and  to  confirm  the  truth  of  his  predie> 
tion,  he  further  said,  that  the  altar  should  be  rent,  and  thft 
ashes  upon  it  poured  out.  This  speech  so  incensed  Jerobo- 
am, that,  stretching  out  his  hand,  he  ordered  his  attendants 
to  seize  the  prophet ;  but  his  hand  immediately  withered 
away,  and  the  aJtar  became  rent  so  that  the  ashes  fell  upon 
the  ground. 

What  did  Jeroboam  do  to  prevent  his  people  firom  going  up  to  J* 
ruealem  to  offer  sacrifice  ?— What  happened  to  Jeroboam  at  Bethel  ? 

7t 


68 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT. 


7.  The  king  was  then  convinced  of  the  inspiration  of  the 
prophet,  and  entreate4  him  to  pray  for  the  restoration  of  his 
hand,  which  he  readily  did,  and  it  returned  to  its  former 
8ta;te.  Jeroboam  then  urged  the  stranger  to  go  home  with 
him  and  receive  some  refreshment ;  but  the  latter  refused 
the  invitation,  upon  the  ground,  that  the  Lord  had  command^ 
ed  him  neither  to  eat  nor  to  drink.  He  then  departed  from 
the  place,  and  was  followed  by  an  old  prophet,  who  had  been 
informed  by  his  sons,  of  the  transactions  at  the  altar,  and 
who  had  persuaded  him,  by  a  false  statement,  to  return. 

8.  While  they  were  seated  at  the  table,  the  word  of  the 
Lord  came  unto  the  old  prophet,  and  he  addressed  the  man 
of  God  who  was  from  Judah,  declaring  in  substance,  that  in 
consequence  of  his  disobedience  to  the  command  of  heaven, 
he  should  not  be  buried  in  the  sepulchre  of  his  fathers.  This 
sentence  was  soon  put  in  execution  ;  for  immediately  after 
leaving  the  city,  he  was  attacked  by  a  lion  and  slain.  The 
prophet  of  Bethel,  when  he  heard  of  this  calamity,  went  out 
and  took  the  body,  which  had  been  neither  torn  nor  disfi> 
gured,  and  returning  with  it,  caused  it  to  be  buried  in  his  own 
tomb ;  at  the  same  time  expressing  his  confidence  that  the 
predictions  concerning  the  altar  would  all  be  fulfilled,  and 
giving  it  in  charge  to  his  sons,  that  when  he  died,  they 
should  lay  him  by  the  side  of  the  man  of  God. 


ISRAEL'S  RETURN  FROM  EGYPT. 

When  Israel,  of  the  Lord  beloved. 
Out  from  the  land  of  bondage  came, 
Her  fathers'  God  before  her  moved. 
An  awful  guide  in  smoke  and  flame. 
By  day,  along  the  astonished  lands,  f, 

The  cloudy  pillar  glided  slow  ; 
By  night,  Arabia's  crimsoned  sands 
Returned  the  fiery  column's  glow. 

There  rose  the  choral  hymn  of  praise, 
And  trump  and  timbrel  answered  keen  ; 
And  Zion's  daughters  poured  their  lays, 
With  Priests'  aid  Warriors'  voice  betweea. 


THE  GRATEFUL  PRINCESS. 


49 


n  of  the 
n  of  his 
s  former 
me  with 

refused 
)mmand'- 
ted  from 
had  been 
iltar,  and 
am. 

d  of  the 
the  man 
B,  that  in 
f  heaven, 
rs.  This 
ely  after 
in.  The 
went  out 
nor  disfi- 
n  his  own 

that  the 
died,  and 
ied,  they 


No  portents  no^  our  foes  amaze, 
Forsaken  Israel  wanders  lone  ; 
Our  fathers  would  not  know  thy  ways, 
And  thou  hast  left  them  to  their  own. 

But  present  still,  though  not  ilnseen  ! 
When  brightly  shines  the  prosperous  day, 
Be  thoughts  of  Thee  a  cloudy  screen 
To  temper  the  deceitful  ray  : 
And,  oh  !  where  stoops  on  Judah's  path 
In  shade  and  storm  the  frequent  night. 
Be  thou  long-suffering,  slow  to  wrath, 
A  burning  and  a  shining  light ! 

Our  harps  we  left  by  Babel's  streams, 
The  tyrant's  jest,  the  Gentile's  scorn  ; 
No  censer  round  our  altar  beams, 
And  mute  are  timbrel,  trump,  and  horn. 
But  thou  hast  said,  the  blood  of  goat, 
The  flesh  of  rams  I  will  not  prize, 
A  eontfite  heart,  a  humble  thought, 
Are  mine  accepted  sacrifice. 


THE  GRATEFUL  PRINCESS. 

1.  The  king  of  Armenia,  who  was  vassal  to  the  Medes, 
looking  upon  them  as  ready  to  be  swallowed  up  by  the  foi- 
midabie  league  formed  against  them,  thought  iit.to  lay  hold 
on  this  occasion  to  shake  off  their  yoke.  Accordingly  he 
refused  to  pay  them  the  ordinary  tribute,  and  to  send  them 
the  number  of  troops  he  was  obliged  to  furnish  in  time  of 
war.  This  highly  embarrassed  Cyaxares,  who  was  afraid  at 
this  juncture  of  bringing  new  enemies  upon  his  hands,  if  he 
undertook  to  compel  the  Armenians  to  execute  their  treaty. 
But  Oyrus,  having  informed  himself  exactly  of  the  strength 
and  situation  of  the  country,  undertook  the  affair. — ^The  im- 
portant point  was  to  keep  his  design  secret,  without  which  it 
was  not  likely  to  succeed.  He  therefore  appointed  a  great 
hunting  match .  on  that  side  of  the  country ;  for  it  was  his 

—  ■    '  ■ ■!  I  III    I   I  -  _  ■    I   I    I       ■  I  ,  .  .         -      -II       I  T 

Of  whom  was  the  king  of  Armenia  vassal  ? — How  did  Cyrus  get 
possession  of  him  ? 


ivi 


THE  GRATEFUL  PRINCESS. 


custom  to  ride  out  that  way,  and  frequently  to  hunt  with  the 
king*s  son  and  the  young  noblemen  of  Armenia.  On  the  day 
appointed,  he  set  out  with  a  numerous  retinue.  The  troops 
followed  at  a  distance,  and  were  not  to  appear  till  a  signal 
was  given.  After  some  days  hunting,  when  they  were  come 
pretty  near  the  palace  where  the  court  resided,  Cyrus  com- 
municated his  design  to  his  officers,  and  sent  C^rysanthee 
with  a  detachment,  ordering  them  to  make  themselves  mus- 
ters  of  a  certain  steep  eminence,  where  he  knew  the  king 
used  to  retire,  in  case  of  an  alarm,  with  his  family  and  his 
treasure. 

2.  This  being  done,  he  sent  an  herald  to  the  king  of  Ar- 
menia ^  summon  him  to  perform  the  treaty,  and,  in  the 
meantime,  ordered  his  troops  to  advance.  Never  was  a  court 
in  greater  surprise  and  perplexity.  The  king  was  conscious 
of  the  wrong  he  had  done,  and  was  not  in  a  condition  to 
support  it.  However,  he  did  what  he  could  to  assemble  hie 
forces  together  from  all  quarters  ;  and  in  the  meantime  de- 
spatched his  youngest  son,  called  Sabaris,  into  the  mountains 
with  his  wives,  his  daughters,  and  whatever  was  most  precious 
&nd  valuable.  But  when  he  was  informed  by  nis  scouts,  that 
Cyrus  w&ii  coming  upon  their  heels,  he  entirely  lost  all  courage^ 
and  all  thoughts  of  making  a  defence.  The  Armenians  fol- 
lowing his  example,  ran  away,  every  one  where  he  could,  to 
secure  what  was  dearest  to  him.  Cyrus,  seeing  the  country 
covered  with  people  that  were  endeavoring  to  make  their  es« 
cape,  sent  theiri  word,  that  no  harm  should  be  done  them,  if 
they  staid  :in  their  houses ;  but  that  as  many  as  were  taken 
running  BMay  should  be  treated  as  enemies.  This  made  them 
all  retire  to  their  habitations,  excepting  a  few  that  followed  the 
king. 

3.  On  the  other  hand,  they  that  were  conducting  the  prin- 
cesses to  the  mountains,  fell  into  the  ambush  Chrysanthes 
had  laid  for  them,  and  were  most  of  them  taken  prisoners. 
The  que^n,  the  king's  son,  his  daughters,  his  eldest  son^B 
wife,  and  his  treasure,  all  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Persians. 
—The  king  hearing  this  melancholy  news,  and  not  knowing 
what  would  become  of  him,  retired  to  a  little  eminence, 
where  he  was  presently  invested  by  the  Persian  army  and 
obliged  to  surrender.    Cyrus  ordered  him,  with  all  his  fami* 


What  order  did  Cyrus  send  the  iuhabitanti  of  Armenia. 


THE  GRATEFUL  PRINCESS. 


n 


[j,  to  be  brought  to  the  midst  of  the  army.  At  that  very  in* 
stant  arrived  Tigranes,  the  king's  eldest  son,  who  was  jnsi 
returned  from  a  journey.  At  so  moving  a  spectacle  he  could 
not  forbear  weeping.  Cyrus,  addressing  himself  to  him,  said, 
'*  Piince,  you  are  come  very  seasonably  to  be  present  at  this 
trial  of  your  father ;"  and  immediately  he  assembled  the  cap- 
tains of  the  Persians  and  Medes,  and  called  in  also  the  great 
men  of  Armenia.  Nor  did  he  so  much  as  exclude  the  ladies 
from  this  assembly  who  were  there  in  their  chariots,  but  gave 
them  full  liberty  to  hear  and  see  all  that  passed. 

4.  When  all  was  ready,  and  Cyrus  had  commanded  silence, 
he  began  with  requiring  of  the  king,  that  in  all  the  questions 
he  was  going  to  propose  to  him,  he  would  answer  sincerely, 
because  nothing  could  be  more  unworthy  a  person  of  his 
rank  than  to  use  dissitnulation  or  falsehood. — ^The  king 
promised  he  would.  Then  Cyrus  asked  him,  but  at  different 
times,  proposing  each  article  separately  and  in  order,  whether 
it  was  not  true  that  he  had  made  war  against  Astyages,  king 
of  the  Medes,  his  grandfather ;  whether  he  had  not  been 
overcome  in  that  war,  and  in  consequence  of  this  defeat  had 
concluded  a  treaty  with  Astyages  ;  whether  by  virtue  of  that 
treaty  he  was  not  obliged  to  pay  a  certain  tribute,  to  furnish 
a  certain  number  of  troops,  and  not  keep  any  fortified  place 
in  this  country  1 

5.  It  was  impossible  for  the  king  to  deny  any  of  these 
facts,  which  were  air  public  and  notorious.  "  For  what  rea- 
son, then,"  continued  Cyrus,  "  have  you  violated  the  treaty 
in  every  article  V*  "  For  no  other,"  replied  the  king,  "  than 
because  I  tliought  it  a  glorious  thing  to  shake  off  the  yoke, 
to  live  free,  and  to  leave  my  children  in  the  same  situation." 
"  It.is  really  glorious,"  answered  Cyrus,  "to  fight  in  defence 
of  liberty  ;  but  if  any  one,  after  he  is  reduced  to  servitude, 
should  attempt  to  run  away  from  his  master,  what  would  you 
do  with  him  ?"  "  I  must  confess,"  said  the  king,  "  I  would 
punish  him."  "  And  if  you  had  given  a  government  to  one 
of  your  subjects,  and  he  should  be  found  to  commit  malver- 
sations, would  you  continue  him  in  his  post  ?"  /*  No,  cer-* 
tainly ;  I  would  put  another  in  his  place."  "  And  if  he  had 
amassed  great  riches  by  his  unjust  practices  t"    "  I  would 


Who  was  the  kine's  ion  mentioned  ?^— What  did  Cyrus  require  <M 
the  king?  ^ 


"UPPWR 


imm 


inp^ppwr^w^^p^i 


■»P" 


n 


THE  GRATEFUL  PRINCESS. 


f^m 


m 


f*!l 


1!^ 


."(Ml 


Strip  him  of  them.**  "  But,  (which  is  still  worse)  if  he  had 
held  intelligence  with  your  enemies,  how  would  you  treat 
him  ?"  "  Though  I  should  pass  sentence  upon  myself,"  re- 
plied the  king,  "  I  must  declare  the  truth ;  I  would  put  him 
to  death."  At  these  words  Tigranes  tore  his  hair  from  his 
head,  and  rent  his  garments ;  the  women  burst  out  into  la- 
mentations and  outcries,  as  if  sentence  was  actually  passe<l 
upon  him. 

6.  Cyrus  having  again  commanded  silence,  Tigranes  ad- 
dressed himself  to  the  prince  to  this  effect :  "  Great  prince, 
can  you  think  it  consistent  with  your  wisdom  to  put  my  fa- 
ther to  death,  even  against  your  own  interest  7"  "  How 
against  my  interest  ?"  replied  Cyrus.  "  Because  he  was  never 
80  capable  of  doing  you  service."  "  How  do  you  make  that 
appear  1  Do  the  faults  we  commit  enhance  our  merit,  anc' 
give  us  a  new  title  to  consideration  and  favor  ?"  "  They 
certainly  do,  provided  they  serve  to  make  us  wiser.  For  of 
inestimable  value  is  wisdom ;  are  either  riches,  courage,  or 
address  to  be  compared  to  it  1  Now,  it  is  evident  this  single 
day's  experience  has  infinitely  improved  my  father's  wisdom. 
He  knows  how  dear  the  violation  of  his  word  has  cost  him. 
He  has  proved  and  felt  how  much  you  are  superior  to  him  in 
all  respects.  He  has  not  been  able  to  succeed  in  any  of  his 
designs ;  but  you  have  huppily  accomplished  all  yours,  and 
with  that  expedition  and  secrecy,  that  he  has  found  himself 
surrounded  and  taken  before  he  expected  to  be  attacked  ; 
and  the  very  place  of  his  retreat  has  served  only  to  ensnare 
him."  "  But  your  father,"  replied  Cyrus,  "  has  yet  under- 
gone no  sufferings  that  can  have  taught  him  wisdom."  "  The 
fear  of  evils,"  answered  Tigranes, "  when  it  is  so  well  founded 
as  this  is,  has  a  much  sharper  sting,  and  is  more  capable  of 
piercing  the  soul  than  the  evil  itself.  Besides,  permit  me  to 
say,  that  gratitude  is  a  stronger  and  more  prevailing  motive 
than  any  whatever ;  and  there  can  be  no  obligations  i  .i  the 
world  of  a  higher  nature  than  those  you  will  lay  upon  my  fa 
ther.  His  fortune,  liberty,  sceptre,  life,  wives,  and  children, 
all  restored  to  him  with  such  a  generosity ;  where  can  you 
find,  illustrious  prince,  in  one  single  person,  so  many  strong 
and  powerful  ties  to  attach  him  to  your  service  1" 

How  were  Tigranes  and  tt;e  women  affected  when  the  king  con- 
fesfed  himself  guilty  ? — Through  whose  solicitations  did  Cyras  Bpar« 
ihet  king  ? 


^^sam 


THE  GRATEFUL  PRINCESS. 


73 


7.  "  Well,  then,"  replied  Cyrus,  turning  to  the  king,  "  if 
I  should  yield  to  your  son's  entreaties,  with  what  number  of 
men,  and  what  sum  of  money,  will  you  assist  us  in  the  war 
against  the  Babylonians  1"  "  My  troops  and  treasures,"  says 
the  Armenian  king,  "are  no  longer  mine;  they  are  entirely 
yours.  I  can  raise  40,000  foot,  and  8,000  horse ;  and  as  to 
money,  I  reckon,  including  the  treasures  which  my  father  left 
me,  there  are  about  3,000  talents  in  ready  money.  All  these 
axe  wholly  at  your  disposal."  Cyrus  accepted  half  the  num 
ber  t)f  troops,  and  left  the  king  the  other  half,  for  the  defence 
of  the  country  against  the  Chaldeans  with  whom  he  was  at 
war.  The  annual  tribute  which  was  due  to  the  Medes  he 
doubled,  and  instead  of  50  talents  exacted  100,  and  borrowed 
the  like  sum  over  and  above  ii  Ms  own  name.  "  But  what 
would  you  give  me,"  added  Cyius,  "  for  the  ransom  of  youi 
wives  ?"  "  All  that  I  have  in  the  world,"  answered  the  king. 
"  And  for  the  ransom  of  your  children  7"  "  The  same 
thing."  "  From  this  time,  then,  you  are  indebted  to  me  the 
double  of  all  your  possessions !  and  you,  Tigranes,  at  wha» 
price  would  you  redeem  the  liberty  of  your  lady  1"  Now 
he  had  but  lately  married  her,  and  was  passionately  fond  of 
her.  "  At  the  price,"  says  he,  "  of  a  thousand  lives,  if  I  had 
them."  Cyrus  then  conducted  tliem  all  to  his  tent,  and  en- 
tertained them  at  supper.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  what  trans- 
ports of  joy  there  must  have  been  upon  this  occasion. 

8.  After  supper,  as  they  were  discoursing  upon  various 
subjects,  Cyrus  asked  Tigranes,  what  was  become  of  a  go- 
vernor he  liad  often  seen  hunting  with  him,  and  for  whom 
he  had  a  pa^lKju'ar  esteem.  "Alas,"  says  Tigranes,  "  he  is 
no  more :  v.rA  I  dare  not  tell  you  by  what  accident  I  lost 
him."  Cvius  pressing  him  to  tell  him,  "  My  father,"  con- 
tinued Tigranes,  "  seeing  I  had  a  very  tender  affection  for 
this  governor,  and  that  I  was  extremely  attached  to  him,  was 
jealous  it  might  be  of  some  ill  ?.onsequencc,  and  put  him  to 
death.  But  he  was  so  honest  a  man,  that,  as  he  was  ready 
to  expire,  he  sent  for  me,  and  nnoke  to  me  ir  these  worda— 

'  Tigranes,  let  not  my  death  occasion  any  disaffection  in 
foil  towards  the  king  year  father.  What  he  has  done  to  me 
did  )iot  proceed  from  malice,  but  only  from  prejudice  and 


•What  did  TigrRnes  propose  to  give  for  the  liberty  of  hitanelf  and 
wifb? 


m 


mi 


74 


JULIUS  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY. 


a  false  notion  wherewith  he  was  unhappily  blinded.'*  *'  O 
the  excellent  man  !"  cried  Cyrus,  "  never  forget  the  last  ad- 
vice he  gave  you." 

9.  When  the  conversation  was  ended,  Cyras,  before  they 
parted  embraced  them  all,  as  in  token  of  a  perfect  reconcilia- 
tion. This  doi^e,  they  got  into  their  chariots^  with  their  wives, 
and  wont  home  full  of  gratitude  and  admiration.  Nothing 
but  Cyrus  was  mentioned  the  whole  way ;  soi.ie  extolling  his 
wisdom,  others  his  valor,  some  admiring  the  sweetness  of 
his  temper,  others  praising  the  beauty  of  his  person  and  the 
majesty  of  his  mien.  "  And  you,"  says  Tigranes,  addressing 
himself  to  his  lady,  "  what  do  you  think  of  Cyrus'  aspect  and 
deportment  ?"  "  I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  lady,  "  I  did 
not  observe  him."  "  Ufion  what  subject  then  did  you  fix 
your  eyes  ?"  "  Upon  him  that  said  he  would  give  a  thou- 
sand lives  to  ransom  my  liberty.' 


»» 


'-'At' 


I 


f 


if 


JULIUS  C^SAR  AND  POMPEY. 

1.  The  ambition  of  Caesar  and  of  Pompey  had  now  evi- 
dently the  same  object ;  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  only  ques- 
tion in  those  degenerate  times,  to  which  of  these  aspiring 
leaders  the  republic  should  surrender  its  liberties.  The 
term  of  Caesar's  government  was  nearly  expiring ;  but  to 
secure  himself  against  a  deprivation  of  power,  he  procured  a 
proposal  to  be  made  in  the  senate  by  one  of  his  partisans, 
which  wore  the  appearance  of  great  moderation,  namely, 
that  Caesar  and  Pompey  should  either  both  continue  in  their 
governments,  or  both  be  deprived  of  them,  as  they  wer« 
equally  capable  of  endangering  the  public  libe  ty  by  aj! 
abuse  of  power. 

2.  The  motion  passetl,  and  Caesar  immediately  offered  t© 
resign,  on  condition  that  his  rival  should  do  so ;  but  Poro- 
pt^t-|«jected  the  accommodation ;  the  term  of  his  govern 

'^tmSt  had  yet  several  years  duration,  and  he  suspected  the 
proposal  to  be  a  snare  laid  for  him  by  Cssar.  He  resolved 
to  maintain  his  right  by  force  of  arms,  and  a  civil  war  waa 

What  ttrong  expression  of  her  gratitude  did  she  make  to  her  hna 
band  ? — What  proposition  did  Ceeiar  make  ? — Did  Pompey  Moede 
ioit' 


JULIUS  CiESAR  AND  POMPEY. 


74 


the  necessary  consequence.  The  consuls  and  a  great  part 
of  the  senate  were  the  friends  of  Pompey.  Csesar  had  on 
his  side  a  victorious  army,  consisting  of  ten  legions,  and  the 
body  of  the  Roman  citizens,  whom  he  had  ;von  by  his  libe- 
rality. Mark  Antony  and  Cassius,  at  that  time  tribunes  of 
the  people,  left  Rome  and  repaired  to  Caesar's  camp. 

3.  The  senate,  apprehensive  of  his  designs,  pronounced  a 
decree,  branding,  with  the  crime  of  parricide,  any  command- 
er who  should  dare  to  pass  the  Rubicon,  (the  boundary  be- 
tween Italy  and  the  Gauls)  with  a  single  cohort,  without 
their  permission.  Caesar  infringed  the  prohibition,  and 
marched  straight  to  Rome.  Pompey,  to  whom  the  senate 
committed  the  defence  of  the  state,  had  no  army.  He  quit- 
ted Rome,  followed  by  the  consuls  and  a  part  of  the  senate, 
and  endeavored  hastily  to 'levy  troops  over  ajl  Italy  and 
Greece  ;  while  Cajsar  triumphantly  entered  the  city,  amidst 
the  acclamations  of  the  peoi)le,  seized  the  public  treasury, 
and  possessed  himself  of  the  supreme  authority  without  op* 
position. 

4.  Having  secured  the  capital  of  the  empli-e,  he  set  out  to 
take  the  field  against  his  enemies.  The  lieutenants  of  Pom- 
pey had  possession  of  Spain.  Caesar  marched  thither,  and 
subdued  the  whole  country  in  the  space  of  forty  days.  He 
returned  victorious  to  Rome,  where,  in  his  absence,  he  had 
been  nominated  dictator.  In  the  succeeding  election  of 
magistrates,  he  was  chosen  consul ;  and  thus  invested,  by  a 
dcuble  title,  with  the  right  of  acting  in  the  name  of  the  re- 
public. Pompey  had,  by  this  time,  raised  a  numerous  army, 
and  CsBsar  was  anxious  to  bring  him  to  a  decisive  engage- 
ment. He  joined  him  in  lUyria,  and  the  first  conflict  was  of 
doubtful  issue  ;  but  leading  on  his  army  to  Macedonia,  where 
they  found  a  large  reinforcement,  he  gave  battle  to  Pompey 
in  the  field  of  Pharsalia,  and  entirely  deff^ated  him.  Fif- 
teen thousand  were  slain,  and  24,000  surrendered  themselves 

prisoners  to  the  victor,  A.  U.  C*  705,  B.  C.  49. 

.1  I    ■       .1 

What  decree  did  the  Roman  senate  pronounoQ  at  this  time  ?— 
What  did  Pempey,  as  Ctesar  advanced  to  Rome  ? — With  what  tiU* 
Iras  CoBsar  invested,  after  returning  from  Spvin  ? — At  what  bslllt 
was  Ppmpey  defeated  ? 

Anno  Urbia  Conditas,  or  year  of  building  the  oity. 
8 


Ml— MH 


_:iL. 


nr" 


BATTLE  OF  PHARSALIA. 


BATTLE  OF  PHARSALIA. 

L  As.  the  armies  approached,  the  two  generals  went  from 
rank  to  rank,  encouraging  their  troops.  Pompey  represent- 
ed to  his  men,  that  the  glorious  occasion,  which  they  had 
long  besought  him  to  grant,  was  now  before  them  ;  "  and  in- 
deed," cried  he,  '*  what  advantages  could  you  wish  over  an 
enemy,  that  you  are  not  now  possessed  of  ?  Yournumbers, 
your  vigor,  a  late  victory,  all  ensure  a  speedy  and  an  easy 
conquest  over  those  harassed  and  broken  troops,  composed 
of  men  worn  out  with  agO;  and  impressed  with  the  terroi?  of 
a  recent  defeat.  But  there  is  a  still  stronger  bulwark  for  our 
protection  than  the  superiority  of  our  strength — the  justice 
of  our  cause.  You  are  engaged  in  the  defence  of  liberty, 
and  of  your  country.  You  are  supported  by  its  laws,  and 
followed  by  its  magistrates.  You  have  the  world  spectators 
of  your  conduct,  and  wishing  you  success.  On  the  contrary, 
he  whom  you  oppose  is  a  robber  and  oppressor  of  his  coun- 
try, and  almost  already  sunk  with  the  consciousness  of  his 
crimes,  as  well  as  the  bad  success  of  his  arms.  Show,  then, 
on  this  occasion,  all  vhat  ardor,  and  detestation  of  tyranny, 
that  should  animate  Romans,  and  do  justice  to  mankind." 

2.  Csesar,  on  his  side,  went  among  his  men  wiih  that 
steady  serenity,  for  which  he  was  so  much  admired  in  the 
midst  of  danger.  He  insisted  on  nothing  so  strongly,  to  his 
soldiers,  as  his  frequent  and  unsuccessful  endeavors  for 
peace.  He  talked,  with  terror,  on  the  blood  he  was  going 
to  shed,  and  pleaded  only  the  necessity  that  urged  him  to  it 
He  deplored  the  many  brave  men  that  were  to  fall  on  both 
sides,  and  the  wounds  of  his  country,  whoever  should  be  vic- 
torious. His  soldiers  answered  his  speech  with  looks  of  ar- 
dor and  impatience;  which  observing,  he  gave  the  signal  to 
begin.  The  word  on  Pompey's  side  was,  Hercules  the  in- 
vincible ;  that  on  Caesar's,  Venus  the  victorious.  There  waa 
only  so  much  space  between  both  armies,  as  to  give  room 
for  fighting ;  wherefore,  Pompey  ordered  his  men  to  receive 
the  first  shock,  without  moving  out  of  their  places,  expect-^ 
ing  the  enemy's  ranks  to  be  put  into  disorder  by  their  motion. 
Caesar's  soldiers  were  now  rushing  on  with  their  usual  impe- 
tuosity, when,  perceiving  the  enemy  motionless,  they  all  stop- 
ped short,  as  if  by  general  consent,  and  halted  in  the  midst  of 


mtm 


■r»W»il  IIMflil   I    III-    I  -Hitj  111*11  i>liiW>l 


MM 


mm 


BATTLE  OF  PHARSALlA. 


77 


their  career.     A  terrible  pause  ensued,  in  which  both  armies 
continued  to  gaze  upon  each  other  with  mutual  terror. 

3.  At  length,  Caesar's  men,  having  taken  breath,  ran  luri- 
onsly  upon  the  enemy,  first  discharging  their  javelins,  and 
then  drawing  their  swords.  The  same  method  was  observed 
by  Pompey's  troops,  who  as  vigorously  opposed  the  attack. 
His  cavalry,  also,  were  ordered  to  charge  on  the  very  onset, 
which,  with  the  multitude  of  archers  and  slingers,  soon  oblig- 
ed Caesar's  men  to  give  ground ;  whereupon,  Caesar  immedi- 
ately ordered  the  six  cohorts,  that  were  placed  as  a  reinforce- 
ment, to  advance,  with  orders  to  strike  at  the  enemy's  faces. 
This  had  its  desired  effect.  The  cavalry,  that  were  but  just 
now  sure  of  victory,  received  an  immediate  check ;  the  ui^ 
usual  method  of  fighting  pursued  by  the  cohorts,  their  aiming 
entirely  at  the  visages  of  the  assailant^i.  and  the  horrible  dis- 
figuring wounds  they  made,  all  contributed  to  intimidate 
them  so  much,  that,  instead  of  defending  their  persons,  theii 
only  endeavor  was  to  save  their  faces.  A  total  rout  ensued 
of  their  whole  body,  which  fled,  in  great  disorder,  to  the 
neighboring  mountains,  while  the  archers  and  slingers,  who 
were  thus  abandohed,  were  cut  to  pieces, 

4.  Caesar  now  commanded  the  cohorts  to  pursue  their  suc- 
cess, and  advancing,  charged  Pompey's  troops  upon  the 
flank.  This  charge  the  enemy  withstood  for  some  time  with 
great  bravery,  till  he  brought  up  his  third  line,  which  had 
not  yet  engaged.  Pompey's  infantry,  being  thus  doubly  at- 
tacked m  front  by  fresh  troops,  and  in  rear  by  the  victorious 
cohorts,  could  no  longer  resist,  but  fled  to  their  camp.  The 
right  wing,  however,  still  valiantly  maintained  their  ground. 
But  Caesar,  being  now  convinced  that  the  victory  was  certain, 
tvith  his  usual  clemency,  cried  out,  to  pursue  the  strangers, 
and  to  spare  the  Romans ;  upon  which  they  all  laid  down 
their  arms,  and  received  quarter.  The  greatest  slaughter 
was  aAiong  the  auxiliaries,  who  fled  on  all  quarters,  but  prin- 
cipally went  for  safety  to  the  camp.  The  battle  had  now 
lasted  from  the  break  of  day  till  noon,  although  the  weather 
was' extremely  hot ;  the  conquerors,  however,  did  -aot  remit 
their  ardor,  being  encouraged  by  the  example  of  their  ge- 
neral, who  thought  his  victory  not  complete  till  he  becams 
master  of  the  enemy's  camp. 

5.  Accordingly  marching  on  foot,  at  their  head,  he  ciJled 
upon  them  to  follow  and  strike  the  decisive  blow.    The  cg 


78 


BATTLE  OF  PHARSALIA. 


horts,  which  were  left  to  defend  the  camp,  for  some  lime 
made  a  formidablfe  resistance,  particularly  a  great  number  of 
the  Thracians,  and  other  barbarians,  who  were  appointed  for 
its  defence ;  but  nothing  could  resist  the  ardor  of  Caesar's 
victorious  army ;  they  were,  at  last,  driven  from  their  re- 
trenches, and  all  fled  to  the  mountains,  not  far  off.  Caesar, 
seeing  the  field  and  camp  strewed  with  his  fallen  country- 
men, was  strongly  affected  at  so  melancholy  a  prospect,  and 
could  not  help  crying  out,  to  one  that  stood  near  him,  "  They 
would  have  it  so."  Upon  entering  the  enemy's  camp,  every 
object  presented  fresh  instances  of  the  blind  presumption  and 
madness  of  his  adversaries.  On  all  sides  were  to  be  seen 
tents  adorned  with  ivy,  and  branches  of  myrtles,  couches 
covered  with  purple,  and  side-boards  loaded  with  plate.  Eve- 
ry thing  ^ave  proofs  of  the  highest  luxury,  and  seemed  ra- 
ther the  preparatives  for  a  banquet,  the  rejoicings  for  a  victo- 
ry, than  ths  dispositions  for  a  battle. 

6.  As  for  Pompey,  who  had  formerly  shown  such  instances 
of  courage  and  conduct,  when  he  saw  his  cavalry  routed,  on 
which  he  had  placed  his  sole  dependence,  he  absolutely  lost 
'lis  reason.  Instead  of  thinking  how  to  remedy  this*diaorder, 
by  rallying  such  troops  as  fled,  or  by  opposing  fresh  troops  to 
stop  the  progress  of  the  conquerors,  being  totally  amazed 
tr^  this  unexpected  blow,  he  returned  to  the  camp,  and,  in 
his  tent,  waited  the  issue  of  an  event,  which  it  was  his  duty 
to  direct,  not  to  follow.  There  he  remained  for  some  mo- 
ments, without  speaking ;  till,  being  told  that  the  camp  wai 
attacked,  *'  What,"  says  he,  "  are  we  pursued  to  our  very 
entrenchments  ?"  And  immediately  quitting  his  armor,  for 
a  habit  more  suitable  to  his  circumstances,  he  fled  on  horse- 
back to  the  river  Peneus  ;  giving  way  to  all  the  agonizing 
reflections  which  his  deplorable  situation  must  naturally  sug- 
gest. 

7.  Here  he  took  ship,  and  proceeded  to  the  Amphipdis ; 
where,  finding  his  aflairs  desperate,  he  steered  to  Lesbos,  to 
take  in  his  wife  Cornelia,  whom  he  had  lefl  there,  at  a  dis- 
tance from  the  dangers  and  hurry  of  war.  She,  who  had 
long  flattered  herself  with  the  hopes  of  victory,  felt  the  re- 
verse of  her  fortune,  in  an  agony  of  distress.  She  was  de- 
iired  by  the  messenger,  (whose  tears-,  more  than  words,  pro- 

Where  had  Poiiii»6y  left  his  wife  Cornelia  ? 


ki 


BATTLE  OP  PHARSAUA. 


79 


claimed  the  greatness  of  her  misfortunes)' to  hasten,  if  she 
expected  to  see  Pompey,  with  but  one  ship,  and  even  that 
not  his  own.  Her  grief,  which  before  was  violent,  now  be- 
came insupportable ;  she  fainted  away,  and  lay  a  considera- 
ble time  without  any  signs  of  life.  At  length,  recovering 
herself,  and  reflecting  that  it  was  now  no  time  for  vain  la- 
mentations, she  ran  quite  through  the  city  to  the  sea  side^ 
Pompey  embraced  her  without  speaking  a  word,  and  for 
some  time  supported  her  in  his  arms,  in  silent  despair. 

8.  Having  taken  in  Cornelia,  he  now  continued  his  course, 
steering  to  the  south-east,  and  stopping  no  longer  than  was 
necessary  to  take  in  provisions,  at  the  ports  that  occurred  in 
his  passage.  He  was  at  last  prevailed  upon  to  apply  to  Pto- 
lemy, king  of  Egypt,  to  whose  father  Pompey  had  been  a 
considerable  benefactor.  Ptolemy,  who  was  as  yet  a  minor, 
had  not  the  govcrn^.ent  in  his  own  hands,  but  he  and  his 
kingdom  were  under  the  protection  of  Photinus  and  Theo- 
dotus.  These  advised  that  Pompey  should  be  invited  on 
shore,  and  there  slain  ;  and  accordingly,  Achilles,  the  com- 
mander of  the  forces,  and  Septimius,  by  birth  a  Roman^  and 
who  had  formerly  been  a  centurion  in  Pompey's  army,  were 
ap})ointed  to  cairy  their  opinion  into  execution. 

9.  Being  attended  by  three  or  four  more,  they  went  into  a 
little  bark,  and  rowed  off  from  land  towards  Pompey 's  ship* 
that  lay  about  a  mile  from  the  shore.  Pompey,  afler  taking 
leave  of  Cornelia,  who  wept  at  his  departure,  and  having  re* 
peated  two  verses  of  Sophocles,  signifying,  that  he  who  trusts 
his  freedom  tp  a  tyrant,  from  that  moment  becomes  a  slave» 
gave  his  hand  to  Achilles,  and  stepped  into  the  bark,  with  only 
two  attendants  of  his  own.  They  had  now  rowed  from  the 
ship  a  good  way  ;  and  as,  during  that  time,  they  all  kept  a 
profound  silence,  Pompey,  willing  to  begin  the  discourse,  ac- 
costed Septimius,  whose  face  he  recollected  ;  "  Methinks, 
friend,"  cried  he,  **  you  and  I  were  once  fellow-soldiers  to- 
gether." Septimius  gave  only  a  nod  with  his  head,  without 
uttering  a  word,  or  instancing  the  least  civility.  Pompey, 
therefore,  took  out  a  paper,  on  which  ho  had  minuted  a 
speech  he  intended  to  make  to  tlie  king,  and  began  read- 
rng  it. 

To  wliom  did  Pompey  apply  for  assistance  after  his  defeat  ? — ^Who 
advised  that  Pompey  should  bo  invited  on  shore  and  slain  .'-..'Who 
were  appointed  to  carry  their  advice  into  efToot  ? 
8t 


;vm  iggfw  <wi\  fi'i  iiniiii^i 


80 


BATTLE  OF  PHARSALIA. 


>   ; 


10.  In  this  maimer  they  approached  the  shoie ;  and  Cof' 
nelia,  whose  concern  had  never  suffered  her  to  lose  sight  of 
her  husband,  began  to  conceive  hope,  when  she  perceived 
the  people  on  the  strand  crowding  down  along  the  coast,  as 
if  willing  to  receive  him  ;  but  her  hopes  were  soon  destroy- 
ed ;  for  at  that  instant,  as  Pompey  rose,  •  supporting  himself 
upon  his  freedman's  arm,  Septimius  stabbed  him  in  his  back, 
and  was  instantly  seconded  by  Achilles.  Pompey,  perceiv- 
ing his  death  inevitable,  only  disposed  himself  to  meet  it 
with  decency — and  covering  his  face  with  his  robe,  without 
speaking  a  word,  with  a  sigh,  resigned  himself  to  his  fate. 
At  this  horrid  sight,  Cornelia  shrieked  so  loud^  as  to  be  heard 
to  the  shore  ;  but  the  danger  she  herself  was  in,  did  not  al- 
low the  mariners  time  to  look  on  ;  they  immediately  set  sail, 
and,  the  wind  proving  favourable,  fortunately  they  escaped 
the  pursuit  of  the  Egyptian  galleys. 

11.  In  the  mean  time,  Pompey 's  murderers  having  cut  off 
his  head,  caused  it  to  be  embalmed,  the  better  to  preserve  its 
features,  designing  it  for  a  present  to  Caesar.  The  body  was 
thrown  naked  on  the  strand,  and  exposed  to  the  view  of  all 
those  whose  curiosity  led  them  that  way.     However,  his 

.  faithful  freedman,  Philip,  still  kept  near  it ;  and  when  the 
cofowd  was  dispersed,  he  washed  it  in  the  sea ;  and  looking 
round  for  materials  to  burn  it  with,  he  perceived  the  wreck  of 
a  fishing-boat,  of  which  he  composed  a  pile.  While  he  was 
thus  piously  employed^  he  was  accosted  by  an  old  Roman 
soldier,  who  had  servea  under  Pompey  in  his  youth.  "  Who 
art  thou,"  said  he,  "  that  art  making  these  humble  prepara- 
tions for  Pompey 's  funeral  7"  Philip  having  answered  that 
he  was  one  of  his  freedmen,  **  Alas !"  replied  the  soldier, 
*♦  permit  me  to  share  in  this  honor  also ;  among  all  the  mi- 
series of  my  exile,  it  will  be  my  last  sad  comfort,  that  I  have 
been  able  to  assist  at  the  funeral  of  my  old  commafider,  and 
touch  the  body  of  the  bravest  general  that  ever  Rome  pro- 
duced." 


Who  buried  Porapey 


^^i" 


DEATH  OF  ANTONY. 
THE  WORLD  A  FLEETING  SHOW. 

This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show, 

For  man's  illusion  given — 
The  smiles  of  Joy,  the  tears  of  Wo, , 
Deceitful  shine,  deceitful  flow — 

There's  nothing  true  but  Heaven  ! 

And  false  the  light  on  Glory's  plume 

As  fading  hues  of  even  ; 
And  Love,  and  Hope,  and  Beauty's  blooin, 
Are  blossoms  gathered  for  the  tomb-^ 

There's  nothing  bright  but  Heaven  ! 

Poor  wanderers  of  a  stormy  day. 

From  wave  to  wave  we're  driven. 
And  Fancy's  flash,  and  Reason's  ray, 
Serve  but  to  light  the  troubled  way — 

There's  nothing  calm  but  Heaven  I 


81 


DEATH  OF  ANTONY. 

1.  Antony,  being  lost  in  luxury  and  efieminacy  with  Cl&> 
opatra,  gave  Cassar*  time  to  get  his  forces  together,  who 
might  otherwise  have  been  easily  defeated,  had  Antony  come  -. 
upon  him  before  he  was  prepared.  Antony's  fleet  consisted 
of  five  hundred  large  ships,  on  board  of  which  was  an  army 
of  two  hundred  thousand  foot,  and  twenty-two  thousand 
horse.  Caesar  had  only  two  hundred  and  fifty  ships,  eighty 
thousand  foot,  and  twelve  thousand  horse.  Antony  was  ad- 
vised by  his  ablest  commanders  not  to  engage  by  sea ;  but 
Cleopatra  advising  to  the  contrary,  they  came  to  a  general 
engagement  near  the  city  of  Actium  in  Epirus.  Victory  was 
for  sometime  doubtful,  till  the  retreat  of  Cleopatra,  who  fled 
with  the  whole  Egyptian  squadron,  and  was  precipitately  fol- 
lowed by  Antony,  declaring  every  thing  was  lost ;  for  Anto- 
ny's army  immediately  submitted  to  Csesar. 

Where  did  the  armies  of  Ceesar  and  Antony  come  to  an  engngo- 
ment  ? — What  first  turned  the  scale  of  victory  in  favor  of  Coesar  ? 

•  Octavius,  nephew  and  successor  of  Julius,  who  won  the  battle 
of  Pharsalia. 


asxa 


«l 


DEATH  OF  ANTONY. 


T I . 


fc,     '! 


2.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  escaped  to  Alexandria,  where 
slic  put  many  great  persons  to  death,  fearing  they  might  take 
up  arms  against  her  on  account  of  the  defeat  she  had  met 
with.  To  avoid  falling  into  the  hands  of  Caesar,  she  formed 
the  most  extraordinary  design  of  having  her  ships  in  the 
Mediterranean  carried  into  the  Red  Sea.  over  the  isthmus 
of  seventy  miles ;  but  in  this  she  was  prevented  by  the  Ara- 
bians, who  burnt  them  all.  Antony  finding  himself  deserted 
by  all  his  followers,  for  some  time  secluded  himself  from 
company  in  his  house,  which  he  called  Timonium,  where 
he  pretended  to  act  the  part  of  Timon  the  man-hater ;  but 
he  soon  returned  to  Cleopatra,  and  with  her  spent  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life.  * 

3.  They  agreed  to  send  ambassadors  to  CjEsar,  to  sue  for 
peace ;  and  Antony  submitted  to  the  meanness  of  demand-* 
ing  life  of  him,  on  the  shameful  conditions  of  passing  it  at 
Athens,  as  a  private  person,  if  Csesar  would  give  Egypt  to 
Cleopatra  and  her  childrc'n.  The  queen,  however,  was  so 
treacherous  as  to  give  private  orders  to  her  ambassadors,  to 
mention  her  only  in  the  treaty.  Csesar  would  not  admit 
Antony's  ambassadors  to  an  audience ;  but  he  gave  a  favora- 
ble reception  to  those  of  the  queen,  being  particularly  de- 
sirous of  securing  her  person  to  adorn  his  triumph,  and  her 
treasures  to  enable  him  to  pay  the  debts  he  had  contracted 
to  defray  the  expense  of  the  war. 

4.  The  ambassadors  proving  unsuccessful,  Antony  en- 
deavoured to  extinguish  in  himself  the  sense  of  his  present 
misfortunes,  and  the  apprehension  of  those  that  threatened 
him,  by  abandoning  himself  to  feasting  and  voluptuousness. 
Cleopatra  and  he  regaled  themselves  alternately,  and  emu- 
lously  contended  to  excel  each  other  in  the  incredible  mag- 
nificence of  their  banquets.  Cleopatra,  however,  foresaw 
what  might  happen,  and  collecting  all  sorts  of  poison,  dis- 
covered at  length  that  the  asp  was  the  only  one  which  caus- 
ed neither  torture  nor  convulsions,  and  which  throwing  the 
person  bit  into  an  immediate  heaviness  and  stupefaction,  at- 
tended with  a  slight  perspiration  upon  the  face,  and  a  numb- 
ness of  all  the  organs  of  sense,  gently  extinguishing  life ;  so 
that  those  who  were  in  that  condition,  were  angry  when  any 


What  extraordinary  measure  did  Cleopatra  adopt  to  prevent  falling 
Into  the  handf  of  Ceesar  ? 


DEATH  OF  ANTONY. 


one  awakened  them,  or  endeavoured  to  make  them  rise,  like 
people  exceedingly  sleepy.  This  was  the  poison  she  fixed 
upon ;  but  applied  herself,  with  extraordinary  soliciUide,  in 
caressing  Antony,  to  dispel  his  suspicions  and  complaints. 

5^  Caesar,  being  fully  sensible  that  it  was  of  the  highest 
importance  to  him  not  to  leave  his  victory  unfinished,  invest 
ed  Pelusium,  and  summoned  the  governor  to  open  the  gates. 
Seleucus,  who  commanded  there  for  Cleopatra,  had  received 
feiecret  orders  upon  that  head,  and  surrendered  the  place 
without  waiting  for  a  siege.  Such  was  the  wickedness  of 
this  queen,  in  whom  the  most  odious  vices  were  complicated. 
She  absolutely  renounced  all  modesty  ;  had  a  violent  pro- 
pensity  to  fraud,  injustice,  and  cruelty  ;  and,  what  was  worse 
than  adl,  was  a  most  detestable  hypocrite.  While  the  rumor 
of  this  treason  spread  through  the  city,  Cleopatra  ordered  her 
most  precious  moveables  to  be  carried  to  a  place  of  security. 

6.  Caesar  was  in  hopei^  of  making  himself  master  of  Alex- 
andria  in  a  short  time,  by  means  of  the  intelligence  he  held 
with  Cleopatra,  on  which  he  relied  no  less  than  on  his  army. 
Antony,  being  ignorant  of  her  intrigues,  prepared  for  an  ob- 
stinate defence.  He  made  a  vigorous  sally,  and  returned 
victorious  into  the  city,  which  was  the  last  effort  of  his  ex- 
piring genius ;  for,  after  this  exploit,  fortitude  and  sense  of 
glory  forsook  him,  or  were  of  no  more  service  to  him.  In- 
stead of  pursuing  his  victory,  and  keeping  a  watchful  eye 
over  Cleopatra  who  betrayed  him,  he  flew  to  her  in  his  ar- 
mor, and  threw  himself  at  her  feet.  The  palace  echoed 
with  acclamations,  as  though  the  siege  had  been  raised  ;  and 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  spent  that  day,  and  part  of  the  night, 
in  the  most  abandoned  folly. 

7.  Antony  now  resolved  to  make  the  last  attempt,  both, 
by  sea  and  land,  with  a  fixed  resolution  to  .-conquer  or  die. 
He  ordered  his  attendants  to  fill  him  out  wine  plentifully, 
saying,  "  This  may  be,  perhaps,  the  last  piece  of  service  you 
will  be  able  to  do  me  ;  for  to-morrow  you  may  change  your 
master,  when  I,  stretched  on  the  ground,  shall  be  no  more." 

On  the  approach  of  day,  Antony  drew  up  his  forces  on 
some  rising  ground  out  of  the  city,  and  from  thence  beheld 
his  galleys,  which  were  rowing  out  of  the  port,  and  going  to 
attack  those  of  Caesar  ;  but  how  shall  I  express  his  astonish- 


What  wai  the  ehoracter  of  Cleopatra  P 


^^^-^^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


/%  >^ 


.V4 


8. '^    /V>%^ 


1.0 

I.I 

mtU    12.5 

ta  Uii   122 

^   1^    11112.0 

Mi& 

III  ''^^ 

II 14    ||.6 

0% 


y] 


'^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


V 


^v 


^ 


:i>^ 


<^ 


:ti  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WMSTIR.N.Y.  14310 

(716)  872-4S03 


;\ 


!^ 


itfijT|miiTiiiili,:  irrn.nii 


mmtip 


imm 


"P 


mmm 


<im 


84 


DEATH  OF  ANTONT. 


ment  when  he  beheld  his  admiral  delivering  up  his  fieet  tn 
his  enemy !  At  the  same  time  his  cavalry  seeing  this,  de- 
serted him  and  went  over  to  Cssar,  when  his  infantry  was 
obliged  to  submit.  Unhappy  Antony  !  in  vain  do  you  fly  to 
th^  palace  to  seek  Cleopatra,  that  you  may  murder  her  for 
her  perUdy ;  she  is  not  there  ;  the  ignominious  wretch  is 
retired. 

8.  Cleopatra  had  secured  herself  from  his  fury  among  the 
tombs,  which  quarter  was  fortified  with  good  walls,  and  the 
gates  were  shut.  She  desired  that  Antony  should  be  told 
that  she  had  destroyed  herself.  Struck  with  tjj^e  idea  of  her 
death,  he  passed  immediately  from  the  excess  of  jage  to  the 
most  violent  transports  of  grief,  and  thought  only  of  follow- 
ing her  to  the  grave.  Having  taken  this  resolution,  he  shut 
himself  up  in  his  apartment,  with  a  freedman,  whom  he  had 
caused  to  take  off  his  armor,  an4  commanded  him  to  plunge 
his  dagger  into  his  bosom.  But  his  servant,  full  of  affection, 
rontect,  and  fidelity  for  his  master,  stabbed  himself  with  it, 
atid  fell  dead  at  his  feet.  Antony  looking  upon  this  action 
as  an  example  for  him  to  follow,  thrust  his  sword  into  his 
body,  and  fell  upon  the  floor  in  a  torrent  of  his  blood,  which 
he  mingled  with  that  of  his  faithful  servant. 

9.  At  that  moment  an  officer  came  to  let  him  know  that 
Glec^atra  ifms  Jive.  He  no  sooner  heard  her  name  pro- 
nounced, than  he  opened  his  dying  eyes,  suffered  his  wounds 
to  be  dressed,  and  caused  himself  to  be  carried  to  the  fort, 
where  she  liad  shut  herself  up.  Cleopatra  would  not  permit 
the  gates  to  be  opened  to  give  him  entrance,  for  fear  of  sonu 
sarprise ;  but  she  appeared  at  a  lofly  window,  from  whence 
she  threw  down  chains  and  cords.  Antony  was,  nlade  fast 
to  these,  and  Cleopatra,  assisted  by  two  women,  who  were 
the  only  persons  she  had  brought  with  her  to  the  tombs, 
drew  him  up.  Never  was  there  a  more  moving  sight  An- 
tony, all  bathed  in  his  blood,  with  death  painted  in  his  face, 
Was  dragged  iip  into  the  air,  turning  his  dying  eyes,  and  ex- 
tending his  feeble  hands  to  Cleopatra,  as  if  to  conjure  her 
to  receive  his  last  breath ;  while  she,  with  her  features  dis- 
torted, and  her  arms  strained,  pulled  the  cord  with  her  whole 
ttiiength* 

10.  When  she  had  drawn  him  up  to  her,  and  placed  him 


What  induced  Antony  tb  destroy  himielf  ? 


DEATH  OF  CLEOPATRA 


85 


8ttll 

wafi 
lyto 
r  for 
ch  is 

g  the 
dthe 
J  told 
f  her 
to  the 
sllow- 
3  shut 
ie  had 
blunge 
sction, 
^ith  it, 
action 
ato  his 
which 

w  that 

pTO- 

rounds 
le  fort, 
)ennit 
fsonu 
irhence 
de  fast 


on  a  bed,  she  threw  her  clothes  upon  him,  and  making  the 
most  mournful  exclamations,  cut  off  his  hair,  according  tb 
the  superstition  of  the  pagans,  that  that  was  a  relief  to  those 
who  died  a  violent  death.  Her  cries  recalling  his  faintifi| 
spirits,  and  seeing  the  affliction  she  was  in,  he  told  her,  wiw 
a  view  to  comfort  Iier,  that  he  should  die  in  peace,  since  he 
would  expire  in  her  arms ;  and  that  he  did  not  blush  at  his 
defeat,  since  he  had  been  vanquished  by  Romans.  Having 
thus  spoken,  he  expired,  being  then  in  the  fifly-third  year 
of  his  age.  His  death  put  an  end  to  all  civil  wars,  and  gave 
Gssar  an  opportunity  of  completing  his  ambitious  designs. 


DEATH  OF  CLEOPATRA. 

1.  Just  about  the  time  that  Antony  breathed  his  last, 
Proculeius,  who  had  received  particular  orders  to  seize  Cle- 
opatra, arrived  from  CsBsar.  He  co«ld  not  refrain  from 
shedding  tears  on  this  melancholy  occasion,  which  was  ag^ 
gravated  by  the  bloody  sword  that  was  presented  to  him. 
The  queen  refused  to  go  with  him,  but  permitted  him  tr> 
speak  to  her  from  without. 

2^  Proculeius,  afler  having  observed  the  situation'  of  thn 
sepulchre,  went  and  informed  Ctesar  of  his  observatioiis. 
Ceesar  then  sent  Gallus  to  speak  with  her,  which  he  dt#||i 
the  same  manner  as  Proculeius.  In  the  mean  time,  the  lat- 
ter, bringing  a  ladder,  and  being  followed  by  two  officers, 
got  in  at  the  window,  where  Antony  had  been  drawn  up, 
and  went  to  the  gate,  where  Cleopatra  was  talking  with  Gal- 
lus. One  of  her  female  attendants,  seeing  him,  shrieked 
and  cried,  "  Ill-fated  princess,  thou  art  taken  !"  Cleopatra 
had  raised  a  dagger  to  stab  herself,  when  Proculeius,  catch- 
ing her  in  his  arms,  thus  addressed  her — "  You  injure  both 
CflBsar  and  yourself,  in  attempting  to  deprive  him  of  so  no- 
ble an  opportunity  to  exert  his  clemency."  He  seized  her 
dagger,  and  shook  her  robes,  to  discover  if  any  poison  wai 
concealed  under  them.    Cesar  then  sent  a  freed-man  to 


jdhim 


Who  received  orders  from  Cmnr  to  seize  Cleopatra  ?--<-Did  ho  me 
eeed  in  seizing  her ? — Who  was  then  sent  by  Cesar  to  take  her''- 
What  did  she  attempt  doingf,  when  taken  ? 


<^ 


DEATH  OF  CLEOPATRA. 


■i 


gnud  Cieop^tra,  ordering  him  to  uise  her  lil^e  a  que^eii,  bpt 
to  prevent  her  from  laying  violent  iKinds  upon  he];self 

3.  Caesar  then  entered  Alexaridria  without  further  oppo- 
sition,, and,  gave  Cleopatra  fair  hopes  of  the  kindest  treat- 
ment; though  he  intencied  only  to  pervert  her  treasurcis  to 
his  own  purposes,  and  reserve  her  person  to  grace  hjs  tri- 
umph. But  when  he  had  both  in  his  power,  he  disregafi^iil^d 
her,  and  she  found  she  had  po, other  means  of  avoiding,^h^ 
disgrace  of  adding  to  the  glory  of  his  triumph,  thau  l>y  |^^t- 
ting  a  period  to' her  life. 

4.  Caesar  w^ntapd  paid; her  a  visit,  whienj^he  en,deayor^ 
to  captivate  this  young  conqueror,  as  she  had  before  capti- 
vated Julius  Cffisar  and  Antony.  But  alas,  the  charm  was 
now  broken  !  Caesar,  with  the  utmost  coolness,  only  advised 
her  not  to  despond,  declaring  th^t  he  would  treat  her  with 
all  possible  tenderness. 

.5.  He  permitted  her  to  dispose  of  her  Jewels  as  she  thouffht 
pf<oper ;  and,  ailer  giving  her  the  icindest,  as9uranc€|s,^,^ft 
W*  Cesar  imagined  he  had  artfully  pver-reachcid  C]^q^ 
tn^  by  inspiring  her  with  a. love  of  life,  whioh  he„^,^t, 
wish^  to  prolong,  only  for  the  sake  of  his  triumph;  r|)pt 
herein  he  soon  found  his  mistake.  Caesar  h^  hefi>|regiy«n 
Cleopatra  leave  to  bury  Antony,  whiqh  she  did  with  the  ut- 
most m,affni6cence.  According  to  the  custom  pf  £{gypt,  she 
caused  his  body  to  be  embalmed  with  the  most  exquisite,  per^ 
fumes  of  the  east,  and  placed  it  among  the  tombs  of  the 
Egyptian  kings.  < 

6.  Cleopatra  hearing  that  Caesar  intended  to  .sen4  ^^ 
mway  withm  three  days,  conjured  him  to  let  her  pay  her  \^ 
obligations  to  the  remains  of  Anjtony,  .which  he  gran^^. 
She  then  visited  Antony's  tomb,  strewing  it  with  flowers, 
and  watering  it  with  tears.  She,  the^n  returned  to  her  Cyhjapo- 
ber,  went;ii^o,a  bath,  and; fjTOiP  thence  to  the  table,  whiejre.a 
splendid  entertainment  .H^asprepareid.  ,When  she  ,,ari^ 
from  table,  e^  wro)l^  a  Jiett^r  to  Caesar,  .wherein. she  ear- 
nestly desired  to  belaid  in  tt^sam^  tomb  with  Antony ;  and 
having,  made<  ,911  leav^^h^r  Cihamhei*,  except  her  two  women, 
^he  wjut  the  door,  sat  ^Qwn  .^opon  the  bed,  and  anked  ^r  a 
basket  of  figs,  which  a  peasant  had  lately  brought.    This 


What  were  Caear'B  deiigne  in  regard  to  Cleopatra  and  her  tf«»> 
■UNi  ? — What  did  she  aim  to  do  when  viaited  by  Cnsar  ? 


^mi^fm 


DEATH  OF  CLEOPATRA. 


8^ 


ires  lio 
his  tri- 


ky  m^ 

savored 
e  capti- 
irm  was 
advised 
ler  with 

tHoucht 

ph ;  ,fept 
»yegiy«n 

the^tr 
pypt,  she 
Isiteper^ 

m  o^  the 

$|ijd  her 
her^ 

granli^. 
flowers, 

where<^ 
le  ,»rp^ 
Ishe  ^r- 
^jny;  a^ttd 

women, 
Iked  for  a 

It.    This 


hertffe- 


supposed  peasant  was  one  of  the  queen's  domestics,  who  had 
eluded  the  vigilance  of  the  guards.  She  placed  the  ba^et 
by  her,  and  a  moment  after  lay  down,  as  if  she  iiad  fallen 
asleep ;  but  this  was  the  effect  of  the  asp,  which  was  con- 
cealed among  the  fruit,  and  had  stung  her  in  the*  arm,  which 
she  had  held  to  it  The  poison  immediately  communicated 
to  the  heart,  and  killed  her  without  pain. 

7.  Thus  died,  in  the  thirty-ninth  year  of  her  age,  this 
princess,  whose  wit  and  beauty  had  made  so  much  noise  in 
the  world,  after  having  reigned  tv/enty-two  years  from  the 
death  of  her  father,  twelve  of  which  she  passed  with  Antony. 
She  was  a  woman  of  great  parts,  as  well  as  of  great  wicked- 
ness ;  and  spoke  several  languages  with  the  utmost  readi-'; ' 
ness.    In  her  death  ended  the  reign  of  the  Ptolemies  m*^ 
Egypt,  af^er  it  had  continued  from  the  death  of  Alexander 
294  years. 

8.  CsBsar,  on  the  receipt  of  Cleopatra'is  letter,  instantly 
despatched  a  messenger  to  her,  who  found  her  dead  bk  a 
golden  couch,  dressed  in  royal  robes,  looking  like  one  asleep;  *^ 
with  one  of  her  maids  dead  at  her  feet,  and  the  other  expir- 
ing.    Csesar  was  very  much  troubled  at  Cleopatra's  death^. 
as  it  robbed  him  of  the  noblest  ornament  of  his  triumph."  ■ 
He  ordered  her  body  to  be  buried  near  that  of  Antony,  agree- ' 
ably  to  her  request,  which  was  accordingly  done  with  the 
greatest  funeral  pomp.     Her  women  had  also  a  pompous  In- 
terment, in  memory  of  their  fidelity.      Afle*^  Cleopatra's 
death,  Egypt  was  made  a  Roman  province,  and  governed  by 

a  prefect  sent  from  Rome  for  that  purpose. 

9.  Cssar  having  now  greatly  enlarged,  the  Roman  domi-  ' 
nions,  was  received  at  Rome  as  a  conqueror,  who  had  put  an 
end  to  the  miseries  and  calamities  of  most  nations.  He  tri- 
umphed three  days  successively,  with  extraordinary  magnifi- 
cence ;  first,  for  Illyricum  ;  secondly,  for  the  victory  of  Ac- 
tium  ;  and  thirdly,  for  the  conquest  of  Egypt.  On  this  oc- 
casion, the  temple  of  Janus  was  shut,  which  was  the  third 
time  since  the  foundation  of  Rome,  having  stood  open  205  -, 
years. 


How  did  Cleopatra  destroy  hor  life  ?^— "What  was  her  age  when  ahe 
(IcBtroyed  herself? — How  long  had  Bho  reigned  ? — What  reign  ended 
nrith  the  death  of  Cleopatra  ?        q 


■ih 


«p 


■f^"— ^" 


"^^^fp"7- 


^•wTpfr 


(<d 


THE  CAPTIVE  LADY. 


THE  CAPTIVE  LADY, 

'         BK8TORED  TO  HER  LOTES  Vf  BCIPIO. 

I.  When  to  his  glorious  first  essay  in  war, 
New  Carthage  fell,  there  all  the  flower  of  SprJn 
Were  kept  in  hostage ;  a  full  field  presentin^<r 
For  Scipio*s  generosity  to  shine. — ^A  noble  virgin, 
Conspicuous  far  o'er  edi  the  captive  dames, 
Was  mark'd  the  gen'ral*8  prize.    She  wept  and  blush'd, 
Young,  fresh,  and  blooming  like  the  mom.    An  eye, 
As  when  the  blue  sky  trembles  throagh  a  cloud 
Of  purest  white.    A  secret  charm  combinM 
Her  features,  and  infiisM  enchantment  through  them. 
Her  shape  was  harmony^    But  eloquence 
Beneath  her  beauty  fails ;  which  seemM  on  purpose 
By  nature  lavishM  on  her,  that  mankind 
lligKt  see  the  virtue  of  a  hero  try'd. 
Almost  beyond  the  stretch  of  human  force. 

%  Sofl  as  she  pass'd  along,  with  downcast  eyes. 
Where  gentle  sorrow  swellM,  and  now  and  then 
DroppM  o'er  her  modest  cheeks  a  trickling  tear, 
The  Roman  legions  languished,  and  hard  war 
Felt  more  than  pity ;  e'en  their  chief  himself, 
As  on  his  high  tribunal  rais'd  he  sat, 
Turn'd  from  the  dang'rous  sight ;  and,  chiding,  ask'd 
His  officers,  if  by  this  gift  they  meapt 
To  cloud  his  glory  in  its  very  dawn. 

3.  She,  questioned  of  her  birth,  in  trembling  accents, 
With  tears  and  blushes,  broken  told  her  tale.  • 

#Bat  when  he  found  her  royally  descended ; 
Of  her  old  captive  parents  the  sole  joy ; 
Aiid  that  a  hapless  Celtiberian  prince. 
Her  lover  and  belov'd,  forgot  his  chains, 
His  lost  dominions,  and  for  her  alone 
Wept  out  his  tender  soul — sudden  the  heart 
Of  this  young,  conquering,  loving,  godlike  Roman, 
Felt  all  the  great  divinity  of  virtue.  , 

4.  His  wishmg  youth  stood  checkM ;  his  temptiitg  power. 
RditrainM  by  kind  humanity.    At  once, 


^IP" 


.  DEATH  OF  GiESAR  8Q 

lie  for  her  parents  and  her  lover  callM. 
The  various  scene  imagine.     How  his  troops 
Looked  dubious  on,  and  wonderM  what  he  meant ; 
While  stretchM  helow,  the  trembling  suppliant  lay, 
Rack*d  by  a  thousand  mingling  passions — fear, 
H'^,  jealousy,  disdain,  submission,  grief« 
Anxiety^  and  love,  in  every  shape. 
To  these,  as  different  sentiments  succeeded, 
As  mix'd  emotions,  when  the  man  divine 
Thus  the  dread  silence  to  the  lover  broke — 

5.  "  We  both  are  young*— both  charm'd.    The  right  of 
war 
Has  put  thy  beauteous  mistress  in  my  power ; 
With  whom  I  could,  in  the  most  sacred  ties^ 
Live  out  a  happy  life.     But  know,  that  Romans, 
Their  hearts,  as  well  as  enemies,  can  conquer ; 
Then  take  her  to  thy  boul,  and  with  her,  take 
Thy  liberty  and  kingdom.    In  return, 
I  ask  but  this — when  you  behold  these  eyes. 
These  charms,  with  transport,  be  a  friend  to  Rome." 
Ecstatic  wonder  held  the  lovers  mute ; 
While  the  loud  camp,  and  all  the  clustVing  crowd 
That  hung  around,  rang  with  repeated  shouts. 
Fame  took  th*  alarm,  and  through  resounding  Spain 
Blew  fast  the  fair  report ;  which,  more  than  arms, 
Admiring  nations  to  the  Romans  gain'd. 


#' 


powesr. 


DEATH  OF  C^SAR. 


1.  Gjesar  having  been  made  perpetual  dictator,  and  re« 
ceived  from  the  senate  accumulated  honors,  it  began  to  be 
rumored  that  he  intended  to  make  himself  king ;  and  though 
in  fact  he  was  possessed  of  the  power,  the  people,  who  had 
an  utter  aversion  to  the  name,  could  not  bear  hi?  assuming 
the  title.  Whether  he  really  designed  to  assume  that  emptor 
'  honor,  must  now  for  ever  remain  a  secret ;  but  certain  it  1% 
that  the  unsuspecting  openness  of  his  conduct  marked  somOr 

thing  like  a  confidence  in  the  innocence  of  his  intentions. 

■  ■■ 

What  firit  eaniod  a  jealousy  agahist  CcaBor  ? 


% 


DEATH  OF  CiESAR. 


2.  When  informed,  by  those  about  him,  of  the  jealousief 
of  many  persons  who  envied  his  power,  he  was  heard  to  si^, 
that  he  had  r^^her  die  once  by  treason,  than  to,  live  contimi-  - 
ally  in  apprehen^p  of  it.  When  advised  by  some  to  beware 
of  Brutus,  in  v^hom  he  had  for  some  time  reposed  the  grea^> 
est  confidence,  he  opened  his  breast,  all  scarred  with  wounds, 
saying,  "  Can  you  think  Brutus  cai^  for  such  poor  pUlage 
as  this  V^  And  biding  one  night  at  s^pper,  as  his  friendi^  di»- 
puted  among  themselves  wht^t  death,  was  e^^iest,  he  replied, 
that  which  was  most  sudden  and  least  foreseen.  But  to, 
convince  the  world  how  little  he  had  to  apprehend  from  his 
enemies,  he  disbanded  his  coiUpany  of  Spanish  guards,  which 
facilitated  the  enterprise  against  his  life. 

3.  A  deep  conspiracy  was  therefore  laid  against  him,  com- 
posed of  no  less  than  sixty  senators.  They  were  still  the 
more  formidable,  as  the  generality  of  them  were  of  his  own 
party,  who  having  been  raised  above  other  citizens,  felt  more 
strongly  the  weight  of  a  single  superior.  At  the  head  of  this 
conspiracy  were  Brutus,  whose  life  Caesar  had  spared  after 
the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  and  Cassius,  who  was  pardoned  soon 
after,  both  praetors  for  the  present  year.  Brutus  made  it  his 
chief  glory  to  have  descended  from  that  Brutus  who  first  gave 
Hbcrty  to  Rome.  The  passion  for  freedom  seemed  to  have 
been  transmitted  with  the  blood  of  his  ancestors  down  to 
him.  But  though  he  detested  tyranny,  yet  he  could  not  for- 
bear loving  the  tyrant,  from  whom  he  had  received  the  most 
signal  benefits. 

4.  The  conspirators,  to  give  a  color  of  justice  to  their  pro- 
ceedings, remitted  the  execution  of  their  design  to  the  ides 
of  March,  the  day  on  which  CaBsar  was  to  be  offered  the 
crown.  The  augurs  had  foretold  that  this  day  would  be  fatal 
to  hia^ ;  a^d  th^  night  preceding,  he  heard  his  wife  Calphur- 
nia  lamenting  in  her  sleep ;  and  being  awakened,  sjie  coyi- 
fessi^d  to  him  that  she  dreamed  of  his  being  assassinated  m^ 
h^^  arms.  These  omens  in  some  measure  began  to  change 
his  ^itentions  of  gomg  to  th^  sens^te,  as  he  had  resolved  that 
daj  ;  but  one  of.  the  conspirators  coming  in,  prevailed  upon 
hi^  to  keep  his  resolution,  telling  him  of  the  reproach  th^t 
iirj(^ji44  attend  his  staying  at  home  titl  his  wife  had  lucl^^y 

Of  what  was  Cefar  warned  to  beware  ?— -Who  engaged  with  Bra- 
«■  in  a  conspiracy  to  destroy  Ceesar  ? 


tfiki 


''^i""^^ 


iMAta  OF  CiEBAR. 


«1 


upon 

_      — '' 
Ub  Bra- 


dreams,  and  of  the  prepai*atiotis  that  were  idid^  Ibr  lu^  ap- 
pcaratiee. 

5.  As  he  went  along  to  the  senate,  a  slave  who  hastened 
to  him  with  information  6f  the  conspiracy,  attemptl^d  to  tsoiiie 
near  him,  but  could  not  for  the  cr6wa.  AiTtemidortis.  a  Ot'^k 
philosopher,  who  had  discovered  the  whble  plot,  delivered 
him  a  memorial,  containing  the  heada  of  the  inforniatidn  ; 
but  Geesar  gave  it,  with  other  papers,  to  one  6f  his  secre^- 
ries,  without  reading,  as  was  usual  in  things  of  this  natiit^. 
Being  at  length  entered  the  senate-hbuse,  where  the  consi^hra- 
tors  were  prepared  to  receive  him,  he  met  one  Spurina,  aii  ai>- 
gur,  who  had  foretold  this  danger,  to  Whom  h^  said,  smiling, 
"  Well,  Spurina,  the  ides  of  March  are  66iiie."  "  Yes,"  re- 
plied the  augur,  "  but  they  are  not  yet  over." 

6.  As  sodh  as  he  had  taken  his  place,  the  conspiratoru 
came  neariiim,  under  pretence  of  salutihg  him ;  and  Uithber, 
who  was  one  of  them,  approached  in  a  suppliant  posture, 
pretending  to  sue  for  his  brother's  pardon,  who  had  been 
banished  by  his  order.  All  the  conspirators  seconded  him 
with  great  earnestness ;  and  Cimber,.  seeming  to  sue  with 
still  greater  submission,  took  hold  of  the  boitom  of  his  sobe, 
holding  him  so  as  to  prevent  his  rising.  Thai  was  thfe  signal 
agreed  on.  Gasca,  who  was  beMnd,  stabbed  him,  thiragh 
slightly,  in  the  sho-ilder.  Gssar  instantly  tunied  round,  ahd 
with  the  steel  of  his  tablet,  wounded  him  in  tlie  arm. 

7.  However,  all  the  conspirators  were  now  alanD^d;  and 
enclosing  him  round,  he  received  a  second  stab^  from  aft  iiUk- 
known  hand,  in  the  breast,  while  Gassius  wounded  biita  in 
'.he  face.  He  still  defended  himself  with  great  vigor;  rush- 
ing among  them,  and  throwing  down  such  as  opposed  him, 
till  he  saw  Brutus  among  the  conspirators,  who,  coming  up, 
stuck  his  dagger  into  his  thigh.  From  that  moment  C^ar 
thought  no  more  of  defending  himself;  but  looking  _^ion 
this  conspirator,  cried  out,  "  And  you  too,  my  son  !*'  lien 
covering  his  head,  and  spreading  his  robe  before  him  in  ot- 
der  to  fall  with  greater  decency,  he  sunk  down  at  the  base 
(>f  Pompey's  statue,  after  receiving  three-and-twenty  wounds 
from  hands  which  he  Vaiiily  supposed  he  bad  disarmed  by 
his  benefits. 

8.  Gssar  was  killed  in  the  fifly-sixth  year  of  his  age,  and 


M. 


(^  At  what  ago  was  Ceesar  anaasindted  ? 


mm 


HPM^I^P 


mm 


93 


CATILINE'S  CONSPIRACY. 


aboat  fourteen  years  aftei  he  began  the  conquest  of  the 
world.  If  we  examine  his  history,  we  shall  be  equally  ai  a 
loss  whether  most  to  admire  his  great  abilities  or  his  wondef- 
ful  fortune.  To  pretend  to  say,  that  from  the  beginning  he 
planned  the  subjugation  of  his  native  rx)untry,  is  doing  no 
great  credit  to  his  well  known  penetration,  as  a  thousand  ob^ 
stades  lay  in  his  way,  which  fortune,  rather  than  conduct, 
was  to  surmount.  No  man,  therefore,  of  his  sagacity,  would 
have  begun  a  scheme  in  which  tVe  chances  of  succeeding 
were  so  many  against  him  ;  it  is  most  probable,  that,  like  all 
very  successful  men,  he  only  made  the  best  of  every  occur- 
rence ;  and  his  ambition  rising  with  his  good  fortune,  from 
at  first  being  contented  with  his  humbler  aims,  he  at  last  b&- 
gan  to  think  of  governing  the  world,  when  he  found  scarce 
an  obstacle  to  oppose  his  designs.  Such  is  the  disposition 
of  man,  whose  cravings  after  power  are  always  most  insatiable 
when  he  enjoys  the  greatest  share. 


CATILINE'S  CONSPIRACY. 

1.  About  sixty-one  years  before  Christ,  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  conspiracies  broke  out  that  had  ever  threatened 
Rome.  At  the  head  of  this  conspiracy  was  Lucius  Sergius 
Catiline,  who;  was  descended  from  a  very  illustrious  patrician 
&mily  of  great  antiquity.  He  had  been  brought  up  amidst 
the  tumults  and  disorders  of  a  civil  war,  and  had  been  the 
iBitFomentof  the  cruelties  of  Sylla,  to  whom  he  was  devoted 
Destilate  of  either  morals  or  probity,  he  discovered  not  the 
least  veneration  for  the  gods ;  and  being  ever  disgusted  with 
the  present,  was  always  unhappy  with  respect  to  the  future 

2.  Though  master  of  few  abilities,  he  was  bold,  rash, 
and  intrepid,  and  had  not  even  prudence  enough  properly  ii) 
coneeal  his  own  infernal  designs,  where  it  was  necessary  hB 
ahonld,  in  order  to  prevent  their  miscarriage.  As  extrava- 
gance is  the  first  cause  of  the  violation  of  all  laws,  so  Cati^ 
line,  having  contracted  vast  debts,  and  being  unable  to  pay 
them,  grew  desperate,  and  aimed  at  nothing  less  than  the 
highest  and  most  lucrative  employments.    For  this  purpose, 

When  was  Catiline's  conspiracy  formed  ? — What  was  the  character 
of  Catiline  ? 


CATILINE'S  CONSPIRACY 


93 


haracter 


be  assoeiated  with  those  young  Romans,  whose  excesses  had 
romed  their  fortunes,  and  rendered  them  the  contempt  of 
ei^ery  discerning  person  in  the  city. 

3.  These  abandoned  wretches  formed  a  horrid  conspiracy 
to  t/iurder  the  consuls,  and  to  put  to  death  the  greatest  part 
of  the  senators.  Even  the  day  was  fixed,  which  was  to  have 
given  birth  to  the  most  infamous  attempt  that  had  ever  hap- 
pened in  the  commonwealth  since  the  foundation  of  Roms. 
At  the  signal  given  by  Catiline,  they  were  to  rush  on  the 
consuls  and  murder  them ;  but  Catiline  being  too  hasty  in  thft 
signal,  it  was  not  obeyed ;  and  thus  the  massacre  was  put  off 
till  another  time. 

i.  This  conspiracy  was  daily  strengthened  by  all  the  young 
people  of  Rome,  who,  having  been  rocked  in  the  cradle  of 
luxury,  and  enervated  by  a  continual  succession  of  pleasures ; 
such  as  had  ruined  themselves  by  excesses,  and  were  no 
longer  able  to  support  their  extravagancies ;  the  ambitious, 
who  aspired  to  the  highest  posts  in  the  state ;  and  others,  who 
had  revenge,  which  they  wanted  to  gratify  on  some  superior ; 
all  these,  actuated  by  different  pas^^iors,  embarked  in  the 
cause  of  Catiline,  who  made  them  the  largest  promises,  and 
at  the  same  time  exhorted  them  to  employ  their  interest  to 
procure  his  being  elected  consul.  No  time  could  better  suit 
the  conspirators,  as  Pompey  was  then  engaged  in  a  war  in 
the  east,  and  Italy  had  no  army  to  protect  it 

5.  Cicero,  however,  who  was  then  consul,  found  means  to 
bribe  Fulvia,  a  lady  of  an  illustrious  family,  which  she  had  dis- 
honored by  her  criminal  amours  with  one  of  the  chief  of  the 
conspirators.  From  this  woman,  Cicero  got  such  informa- 
tion as  enabled  him  to  counteract  all  Catiline's  projects. 
Soon  after,  Cicero  accused  Catiline,  while  he  was  present  in 
the  senate,  of  his  impious  design ;  but  he  endeavored  to  clear 
himself  of  the  charge.  Finding  he  could  not  bring  the  sen^k- 
tors  to  his  way  of  thinking,  and  being  called  by  them  an 
enemy  and  a  parricide,  he  cried  out  in  a  furious  tone  of 
voice,  "Since  snares  are  every  where  laid  for  me,  and  those 
to  whom  I  am  odious  exasperate  me  beyond  measure,  I  will 
not  perish  singly,  but  involve  my  enemies  in  my  ruin." 

6.  Catiline,  having  spoken  these  words,  flew  out  of  the 

What  was  the  object  of  this  conspiracy  ? — ^Who  was  ii^rmnenUl 
in  counteracting  this  conspiracy  ? 


««^-^^""^" 


d4 


CATIUNE'S  CONSPIRACY 


flenate-hcmse,  and  sendinff  for  the  chief  conspirators,  Urid 
them  what  had  passed.  Then  exhorting  them  to  murder  the 
consul,  he  left  Rome  that  night,  accompanied  by  three  hun- 
dr^  of  his  associates,  and  went  and  joined  Manlius.  He 
caused  lictors,  with  fksces  and  axes,  to  walk  before  him,  as 
if  he  had  really  been  a  magistrate.  Upon  the  news  of  this 
insurrection,  the  senate  ordered  Antoniils,  the  consul,  to 
march  the  legions  against  the  rebels,  and  Cicero  to  looL  diter 
the  peace  of  the  city.  ^ 

7.  Soon  after,  Lentulus,  Cethegus,  Gabinius,  and  two  more 
who  were  principals  of  the  conspiracy,  were  arrested,  con- 
victed, and  conveyed  to  different  prisons.  The  contest  in  the 
senate  was  long  and  warm,  respecting  the  nature  of  the  pu- 
nishment  that  should  be  inflicted  upon  them.  It  was,  how- 
ever, at  last  resolved  that  they  should  be  put  to  death ;  and 
Cicero,  upon  the  bare  sentence  of  the  senate,  and  without 
submitting  the  matter  to  the  people,  as  was  usual,  ordered 
them  to  TC  executed  in  the  different  prisons  in  which  they 
were  confined.  These  executions  at  once  crushed  the  plot, 
and  overturned  all  the  designs  of  the  conspirators,  who  had 
that  night  resolved  to  rescue  them  from  confinement,  ttiat 
they  might  immediately  join  Catiline. 

8.  News  being  brought  to  Catiline's  camp,  of  the  late  exe- 
ouUons,  great  numbers  of  his  soldiers  abandoned  him  in  the 
night;  but  this  did  ii6t  disconcert  or  dishearten  Catiline,  for 
he  was  determined  either  to  ruin  the  commonwealth,  or  pe- 
rish in  the  attempt.  He  thereupon  raised  new  forces,  filled 
tiie  cohorts  with  them,  and  soon  completed  the  legions, 
which  were  all  inflamed  with  the  same  passion  for  blood  and 
daughter  and  the  destruction  of  their  native  country.  By 
the  good  management  of  the  consul,  Catiline  found  himself 
Bonrounded  by  the  enemy.  He  therefore  i^- Dived  to  hazar<i 
a  battle,  though  he  was  considerably  inferior  in  number. 

9.  Petreius,  who  had  served  thirty  years  in  the  field,  an(! 
firom  a  private  soldier  had  been  made  a  general,  conimandbd 
for  the  republic  in  the  room  of  the  consul,  who  was  suddenly 
taken  ill.  He  engaged  Catiline  with  the  greatest  bravery, 
and  the  battle  was  sustained  on  both  sides  with  the  utmost 
intrepidity.  Petreius  was  at  last  victorious,  and  the  rebels 
were  all  put  to  the  sword.  But  Catiline,  who  could  not  bear 
tbe  thoughts  of  surviving  the  rain  of  his  party,  rosh^  into 
that  part  of  the  battle  where  death  was  making  the  greatest 


DESTRUCTION  OF  JERUSALEM. 

havoc,  and  there  fell  a  Victim  to  hk  own  folly  and  iliicniity. 
Hd  was  afterwards  fouAd  amohg  the  d^  and  ihangidd  ho- 
dies  of  the  rebels,  which  lay  in  heaps.  On  his  pale  and  lil^ 
less  fac^  was  sdll  pictured  the  haughty  ferocity  of  his  soul, 
which  even  death  could  not  extinguish. 


THE  TEARS  OF  JUDAH. 

Hush'd  is  the  voice  of  Judah's  mirth — 
And  Judah's  minstrels  too  are  gone ; 

The  harps  that  told  Messiah's  birth, 
And  hung  on  Heaven's  eternal  throne. 

Fled  is  the  bright  and  shining  throng 


-rj 


That  sweird  on  earth  the  welcome  strdl 
And  lost  in  air  the  choral  song 
That  floated  wild  on  David's  plain. 

For'  dark  and  sad  is  Bethlehemi's  fate, 
tiL     ileys  gush  with  human  blood ; 

TVe^^air  sits  mourning  at  her  gate, 
And  Murder  stalks  in  frantic  mood. 

nit^uAt  morn,  the  mother's  heart  was  light, 
Her  infant  bloom'd  upon  her  breast ; 
At  eve,  'twas  pale  and  wither'd  qiute, 
And  gone  to  its  eternal  rest 

,V  Weep  on,  ye  childless  mothers,  weep ! 

Your  babes  are  hush'd  in  one  cold  grave  \, 
-  ;|n  Jordan's  stream  their  spirits  sleep, 

Their  blood  is  mingled  with  the  wave. 


DESteUCTibN  OF  JERUSALEM. 

1.  Ji^s!^«»^  was  buil^oit'tM^i^dfifii^^ 
ed  by  three  walls  on  every  side,  except  where  it  was  enclosed 
with  deep  yallpys,  which  were  deemed  inaccessible.  '  Each 
wall  was.  fortiiied  by  high  towers.    The  celebrated  tempte', 
and  strong  castle  of  Antonia,  wi^e  oii  this  east  sid^  of  ttif 


96 


DIuSTRUCTlON  OF  JERUSALEM 


city,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  Mount  of  Olivoi.'  But  noi- 
withstanding  the  prodigious  strength  of  this  famed  metropo- 
lis, the  infatuated  Jews  brought  on  their  own  destruction  by 
their  intestine  contests.  At  a  time  when  a  formidable  army 
was  rapidly  advancing,  and  the  Jews  were  assembling  from 
all  parts  to  keep  the  ptussovcr,  the  contending  factions  were 
continually  inventing  new  methods  of  mutual  destruction, 
and  m  their  ungoverned  fury  they  wasted  and  destroyed  such 
vast  quantities  of  provisions  as  might  have  preserved  the  city 
many  years. 

2.  Such  was  the  taiiserable  situation  of  Jerusalem,  when 
Titus  began  his  march  towards  it  with  a  formidable  army ; 
and,  having  laid  waste  the  country  in  his  progress,  and 
slaughtered  the  inhabitants,  arrived  before  its  walls.  The 
sight  of  the  Romans  produced  a  temporary  reconciliation 
among  the  contending  factions,  and  they  unanimously  resolv- 
ed to  oppose  the  common  enemy.  Their  first  sally  was  ac- 
cordingly made  with  such  fury  and  resolution,  that,  though 
Titus  displayed  uncommon  valor  on  this  occasion,  the  be- 
siegers were  obliged  to  abandon  their  camps,  and  flee  to  the 
mountains.  No  sooner  had  the  Jews  a  short  interval  of  quiet 
from  their  foreign  enemies,  than  their  civil  disorders  were 
renewed.  John,  by  an  impious  stratagem,  found  means  to 
cut  off,  or  force  Eleazer's  men  to  submit  to  him  ;  and  the 
factions  were  again  reduced  to  two,  who  opposed  each  other 
with  implacable  animosity. 

3.  The  Romans,  in  the  mean  time,  exerted  all  their  ener- 
gy in  making  preparations  for  a  powerful  attack  upon  Jeru- 
salem. Trees  were  cut  down,  houses  levelled,  rocks  cleft 
asunder^  and  valleys  filled  up ;  towers  were  raised,  and  hal- 
tering rams  erected,  with  other  engines  of  destruction, 
against  the  devoted  city.  Afler  the  offers  of  peace,  which 
Titus  had  repeatedly  sent  by  Josephus,  were  rejected  with 
indignation,  the  Romans  began  to  play  their  engines  with  all 
their  might.  The  strenuous  attacks  of  the  enemy  again  unil> 
ed  the  contending  parties  within  the  walls,  who  had  also  en- 
gines, which  they  plied  with  uncommon  fury.  They  had 
taken  them  lately  from  Cestius,  but  were  so  ignorant  of  their 


'  When  did  Titus  eommenoe  his  march  towards  Jerusalem  ? — What 
Aaat  wore  the  Jews  observinff  at  this  time  ?— By  whom  did  Titut 
Orequently  send  oflbrs  of  peace! 


^■ii 


DESTRUCTION  OP  JERUSALEM. 


07 


aot- 
)po- 
i  by 
rmy 
Tom 
vere 

tiOD, 

such 
I  city 

«rhen 
rmy; 
,  and 
The 
iation 
esolv- 
asae- 
hough 
he  be- 
to  the 
f  quiet 
8  were 
sans  to 
ndthe 
1  other 

r  enet- 
i  Jeru- 
LS  cleft 
dbal- 
uction, 
which 
d  with 
ith  all 
unit- 
Iso  eD- 
r  hail 
lof  their 


|?^Wbat 

Titw 


use,  ihey  did  little  execution,  while  the  Roman  legions  made 
terrible  havoc.  The  rebels  were  soon  compelled  to  retiie 
from  the  ponderous  stones,  which  they  thr6w  incessantly 
from  the  towers  they  had  erected,  and  the  battering  lams 
were  at  full  liberty  to  play  against  the  walls.  A  breach  was 
soon  made  in  it,  at  which  the  Romans  entered  and  encamp- 
ed in  the  city,  while  the  Jews  retreated  behind  the  second 
enclosure. 

4.  The  victors  immediately  advanced  to  the  second  wall 
and  plied  their  engines  aud  battering  rams  so  furiously,  that 
one  of  the  towers  they  had  erected  began  to  shake,  and  the 
Jews  who  occupied  it,  perceiving  their  impending  ruin,  set 
it  on  fire,  and  precipitated  themselves  into  the  flames.  The 
fall  of  this  structure  gave  the  Romans  an  entrance  into  the 
second  enclosure.  They  were,  however,  repulsed  by  the  be- 
sieged ;  but  at  length  regained  the  place  entirely,  and  pre- 
pared for  attacking  the  third  and  inner  wall.  The  vast  num- 
ber of  people  which  were  Enclosed  in  Jerusalem  occasioned 
a  famine,  which  raged  in  a  terrible  manner ;  and  as  their 
calamities  increased,  the  fury  of  the  zealots,  if  possible,  rose 
to  a  greater  height.  They  forced  open  the  houses  of  their 
fellow  citizens,  in  search  of  provisions ;  if  they  found  any, 
they  inflicted  the  most  exquisite  tortures  upon  them,  under 
pretence  that  they  had  food  concealed.  Th^tiearest  rela- 
tions, in  the  extremity  of  hunger,  snatched  the  food  from 
each  other. 

5.  Josephus,  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  unparalleled 
sufferings  the  Jews  experienced  during  the  siege  of  their  me- 
tropolis, remarks,  that  "  all  the  calamities  that  ever  befet  any 
nation  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  were  inferior  to  the 
miseries  of  his  countrymen  at  this  awful  period."  Thus  we 
see  the  exact  fulfilment  of  the  emphatic  words  of  our  Savior 
respecting  the  great  tribulation  in  Jerusalem.  "  For  then 
!^U  be  great  tribulation,  such  as  was  not  since  the  beginnin/^ 
of  the  world  to  this  time,  no,  nor  ever  shall  be" 

6b  Titus,  who  was  apprized  of  their  wretched  condition, 
relaxed  the  siege  four  days ;  and,  being  still  desirous  of  sav- 
ing the  city,  caused  provisions  to  be  distributed  to  his  army 
in  sight  of  the  Jews,  who  flocked  upon  ^he  walls  to  behold  it. 

I  II     1 1  ,11        I  I     III   ■ 

What  distressiag  consequences  resulted  from  having  siieh  muHi* 
hides  of  Jews  shut  up  in  Jerusalem  ' 


■hi 


^p 


■^""ipr 


^7T" 


08  |>BSTRUCTI6N  of  JERUSALEM. 

Josephus  was  next  sent  to  his  countrymen,  to  attempt  to  per 
suade  them  not  to  plunge  themselves  in  inevitabi^i  rnin,  by 
persisting  in  defence  of  a  place  which  couM  hold  out  but  lit- 
tle longer,  and  which  the  RcAnans  looked  upon  as  already 
their  own.  He  exhorted  them,  in  the  most  pathetic  terms, 
to  save  themselves,  their  temple,  and  their  country ;  and 
painted  in  strong  colors  the  fatal  effects  which  would  result 
from  their  obstinacy.  But  the  people,  after  many  bitter  in- 
vectives, began  to  dart  their  arrows  at  him ;  yet  he  continued 
to  address  them  with  greater  vehemence,  and  many  were 
induced  by  his  eloquence  to  run  the  utmost  risk  in  order  to 
escape  to  the  Romans  ;  while  others  became  more  desperate, 
and  resolved  to  hold  out  to  the  last  extremity. 

7.  The  Jews  who  were  forcibly  seized  by  the  Romans 
without  the  walls,^  and  who  made  the 'utmost  resistance  for 
fear  of  punishment,  were  scourged  and  crucified  near  the  city. 
)l!  amine  made  them  so  daring  in  these  excursions,  that  five 
hundred,  and  sometimes  more,  suffered  this  dreadful  death 
every  day ;  and,  on  account  of  the  number,  Josephus  ob- 
serves, that  "space  was  wanted  for  the  crosses,  and  croi^es 
for  the  captives."  And  yet,  contrary  to  Titus's  intention, 
the.  seditious  Jews  were  not  disposed  to  a  surrender  by  these 
horrid  spectacles.  In  order  to  check  desertion,  they  repre- 
sented the  sufferers  as  suppliants,  and  not  as  men  iiken  by 
resistance.  Yet  even  some,  who  deemed  capital  punishment 
mevitable,  escaped  to  the  Romans,  considering  death,  by  the 
hands  of  their  enemies,  a  desirable  refuge,  when  compared 
with  the  complicated  distress  which  they  endured.  And 
though  Titus  mutilated  many,  and  sent  them  to  assure  tlie 
people  that  voluntary  deserters  were  well  treated  by  him,  and 
earnestly  to  recommend  a  surrender  of  the  city,  the  Jews 
reviled  Titus  from  the  walls,  defied  his  menaces,  and  conti- 
nued to  defend  the  city  by  every  method  which  stratagem^ 
courage,  and  despair,  could  suggest. 

8.  In  order  to  accelerate  the  destined  ruin  of  Jerusalem, 
Titus,  discouraged  and  exasperated  by  the  repeated  destruc- 
tion of  his  epgines  and  towers,  undertook  the  arduoi^s  task 
of  enclosing  the  city  with  a.  strong  wall,  in  order  to  prevent 
the  inhabitants  from  receiving  any  su^or  from  the  adjacent 
country,  or  eluding  his  vengeance  by  flight.  Such  was  the 
persevering  spirit  of  the  soldrars,  that  in  three  days  they  en- 
tioscd  the  city  by  a  wall  nearly  five  mil js  in  circuit.    Thus 


DESTRUCTION  OF  JERUSALEM. 


90 


per 
,  by 
tlit- 
eady 
itms, 
an(i 
esult 
jr  in- 
nued 
were 
ier  to 
erate, 

)inans 
ice  for 
e  city, 
at  five 

death 
us  ob- 
crosses 
ention, 
y  these 
[  repre- 
Len  by 
shment 

by  the 

ipared 
And 
Lure  tlie 
km,  and 
[e  Jews 
conti- 

itagem* 

lusalem, 
lestrue- 
1118  task 
prevenl 
Ijaceut 
Iwas  the 
}hey  en- 
Thus 


was  the  prophecy  of  our  Savior  accomplished :  "  The  d€ty$ 
shall  come  upon  thee^  when  thine  enemies  shatt  cast  a  trench 
aXumt  thee,  and  compass  thee  round,  and  keep  thee  in  on  every 
side***  Upon  this,  the  famine  raged  with  augmented  vio- 
lence, and  destroyed  whole  families ;  while  Jerusalem  exhi- 
bited a  horrid  spectacle  of  emaciated  invalids  and  putrescent 
bodies.  The  dead  were  too  numerous  to  be  interred ;  and 
many  expired  in  the  performance  of  this  office.  The  public 
calamity  wae  too  great  for  lamentation,  and  the  silence  of 
unutterable  wo  overspread  the  city. 

9.  The  zealots,  at  this  awful  period,  endeavored  to  en- 
courage the  obstinacy  of  'the  people,  by  hiring  a  set  of 
wretches,  pretenders  to  prophecy,  to  go  about  the  city,  and 
declare  the  near  approach  of  a  speedy  and  miraculous  deli- 
verance. This  impious  stratagem  for  a  while  afforded  delu- 
sive hopes  to  the'  miserable  remains  of  the  Jewish  nation. 
But  at  length  an  af&ir  took  place  in  Jerusalem,  which  filled 
the  inhabitants  with  consternation  and  despair,  and  the  Ro- 
mans with  horror  smd  indignation.  A  Jewess,  eminent  for 
birth  and  opulence,  rendered  frantic  with  her  sufferings,  was 
reduced  to  the  dreadful  extremity  of  killing  and  feeding  up^ 
on  her  infant.  Titus,  being  apprized  of  this  inhuman  deed, 
swore  the  total  extirpation  of  the  accursed  city  and  people ; 
and  called  Heaven  to  witness  that  he  was  not  the  author  of 
their  calamity. 

10.  The  Romans  having  pursued  the  attack  with  the  ut- 
most rigor,  advanced  their  last  engines  against  the  walls,  nf- 
ter  having  converted  into  a  desert,  for  wood  to  cottstruct 
them,  a  country  well  planted,  and  interspersed  with  gar- 
dens, for  "^ore  than  eleven  miles  round  the  city.  They  seal- 
ed the  inner  wall,  and  after  a  sanguinary  encounter,  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  fortress  of  Antonia.  Still,  how- 
ever, not  only  the  zealots,  but  many  of  the  people,  were  yet 
80  blinded,  that,  though  nothing  was  now  left  but  the  temple, 
and  the  Romans  were  making  formidable  preparation  fo  bai* 
ter  it  down,  they  could  not  persuade  themjelvds  that  Odd 
would  suffer  that  holy  place  to  be  taken  by  heathens ;  but 
still  expected  a  miraculous,  deliverar^ce.    And  though  the 

war  was  advancing  towards  the  temple,  they  themselVfttf  builrt 

__  i :  ....       _    . .  '  ^ 

'  What  caused  Titua  to  resolve  on  the  complete  ruin  of  Jaruaalem, 
add  the  ezdrpatlon  of  its  inhabitants  ?'y 

10 


100 


DESTRUCTION  OP  JERUSALEM. 


the  portico,  which  joined  it  to  Antonia ;  which  occasioned 
Titus  to  remark,  that  they  began  to  destroy,  with  their  own 
han<)8,  that  magnificent  edifice  which  he  had  preserved* 

11.  The  Roman  commander  had  determined  m  council 
not  to  burn  the  temple,  considering  the  existence  of  so  proud 
a  structure  an  honor  to  himself.  He  therefore  attempted  to 
batter  down  one  of  the  galleries  of  the  precinct ;  but  as  the 
strength  of  the  wall  eluded  the  force  of  all  his  engines,  his 
troops  next  endeavored  to  scale  it,  but  were  repulsed  with 
considerable  loss.  When  Titus  found,  that  his  desire  of  sav* 
ing  the  sacrevi  building  was  likely  to  cost  many  lives,  he  set 
lire  to  the  gates  of  the  outer  temple,  which,  being  plated 
with  silver,  burnt,  all  night,  and  the  flame  rapidly  communi- 
cated to  the  adjacent  galleries  and  porticoes.  Titus,  who  was 
still  desirous  of  preserving  the  temple,  caused  the  flames  to 
be  extinguished ;  and  appe£;sed  the  clamors  of  his  troops, 
who  vehemently  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  razing  it  to  the 
ground.  The  following  day  was  therefore  fixed  upon  for  a 
general  assault  upon  that  magnificent  structure. 

12.  The  utmost  exertions  of  Titus  to  save  the  temple 
were,  however,  ineffectual.  Our  Savior  had  foretold  its 
total  destruction ;  and  his  awful  prediction  was  about  to  be 
accompUshed.  "  And  now,"  says  Josephus,  "  the  fatal  day 
a^roached  in  the  revolution  of  ages,  the  10th  of  August, 
emphatically  called  the  day  of  vengeance,  in  which  the  first 
temple  had  been  destroyed  by  the  king  of  Babylon.'**  While 
Titus  was  reposing  himself  in  his  pavilion,  a  Roman  soldier, 
without  receiving  any  command,  but  urged  as  it  were  by  a 
divine  impulse,  seized  some  of  the  blazing  materials,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  another  soldier,  who  raised  him  from 
the  ground,  threw  them  through  a  window  into  one  of  the 
apartments  that  surrounded  the  sanctuary.  The  whoki 
north  side,  up  to  the  third  story,  was  immediately  enveloped 
m  flames.  The  Jews,  who  now  began  to  suppose  that 
Heaven  had  forsaken  them,  rushed  in  with  violent  lamenta* 
tions,  and  spared  no  effort, '  not  even  life  itself,  to  preserve 
the  sacred  edifice  on  which  they  had  rested  their  security. 

(13.  Titus,  being  awakened  by  the  outcry,  hastened  to  the 
skpbt,  and  commanded  his  soldiers  to  exert  themselves  to  the 
tttmodt  to  extinguish  the  fire.    He  called,  prayed,  and  threal- 


What  induced  Titiia  to  wiih  the  preservation  of  the  temple  I 


DESTRUCTION  OP  JERUSALEM.  101 


med 
own 

mcil 
rowl 
edto 
sthe 
i,  hie 

with 
f  sav- 
hesel 
plated 
muni- 
10  was 
lies  to 
troops, 

to  the 
n  for  a 

temple 
told  its 
It  to  be 
Ltalday 
iugust, 
he  first 
While 
soldier, 
jre  by  a 
als,  and 
imfrom 
of  the 
whoVe 
iveloped 
•se  that 
[amentar 
►reserve 

(urity. 
id  to  the 
iStothe 
threa*- 

>1«? 


,  ened  his  men.  But  so  great  was  the  clamor  and  tumult, 
that  his  entreaties  and  menaces  were  alike  disregarded. 
The  exasperated  Romans,  who  resorted  thither  from  the 
camp,  were  engaged  either  in  insrcasmg  the  conflagration, 
or  killing  the  Jews ;  the  dead  were  heaped  about  the  altar, 
and  a  stream  ^of  blood  floated  at  its  steps. 

14.  Still,  as  the  flames  had  not  reached  the  inner  part  of 
the  temple,  Titus,  with  some  of  his  chief  officers,  entered 
the  sanctuary  and  most  holy  place,  which  excited  his  asto- 
nishment and  admiration.  After  having  in  vain  repeated  his 
attempts  to  prevent  its  destruction,  he  saved  the  golden  can- 
dlestick, the  table  of  shew-bread,  the  altar  of  perfumes, 
which  were  all  of  pure  gold,  and  the  volume  of  the  law, 
wrapped  up  in  a  rich  golden  tissue.  Upon  his  leaving  the 
sacred  place,  some  other  soldiers  set  fire  to  it,  after  tearing 
off  the  golden  plating  from  the  gates  ^nd  timber  work. 

15.  A  horrid  massacre  soon  followed,  in  which  prodigious 
multitudes  perished ;  while  others  rushed,  in  a  kind  of  fren- 
zy, into  the  midst  of  the  flames,  and  precipitated  themselves 
from  the  battlements  of  their  falling  temple.  Six  thousand 
persons,  who,  deluded  by  a  false  prophet  with  the  hopes  of  a 
miraculous  deliverance,  had  fled  to  a  gallery  yet  standing 
without  the  temple,  perished  at  once  by  the  relentless  bar* 
barity  of  the  soldiers,  who  set  it  on  fire,  and  suffered  none 
to  escape.  The  conquerors  carried  their  fury  to  such  a 
height,  as  to  massacre  all  they  met,  without  distinction  of 
age,  sex,  or  quality.  They  also  burnt  all  the  treasure  houses, 
containing  vast  quantities  of  money,  plate,  and  the  richest 
furniture.  In  a  word,  they  continued  to  mark  their  progress 
with  fire  and  sword,  till  they  had  destroyed  all,  except  two 
of  the  temple  gates,  and  that  part  of  the  court  which  was 
defitined  for  the  women. 

16.  In  the  mean  time,  many  of  the  zealots,  by  making 
the  most  vigorous  exertions,  effected  their  escape  from  the 
temple,  and  retired  into  the  city.  But  the  avenues  were  so 
strictly  guarded,  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  escape. 
They  ti^refore  fortified  themselves,  as  well  as  they  were 
able,  on  the  south  side  of  it ;  from  whence  John  and  Simon 
sent  to  desire  a  conference  with  Titus.  They  were  answev- 
ed,  that  though  they  had  caused  all  this  ruiKi  and  effusion  of 
blood,  yet  their  lives  should  be  spared,  if  they  would  surren- 

^■^— ^— — — ■■  Mil     II  .        MM.-       «l..»^M—^—l^^—^W..    ■■■■■■     ■■—■      I  I         !■■■■ — ^— M^^— «— i— ■»<— *i^l  ■■ 

And  what  finally  diitvrmined  him  to  deatroy  it  ? 


mm 


103 


DESTRUCTION  OF  JERUSALEM. 


m 


der  themselves.  They  replied,  that  "  they  had  engaged  by 
the  most  solemn  oaths  not  to  deliver  up  their  persons  to  him 
on  atiy  condition ;  artd  requested  permission  to  retire  to  the 
mountains  with  their  wives  and  children."  The  Rorhait 
general,  enraged  al  this  insolence,  ordered  proclamation  to 
be  made,  that  not  Olie  of  them  should  be  spd^red,  since  they 
persisted  in  rejectirtg  his  last  offers  of  pardon. 

17.  The  daughter  of  Zion,  or  the  lower  city,  #as  next 
abandoned  to  the  futy  of  the  Roman  soldiers,  who  plunder- 
ed, burnt,  and  massacted,  with  insatiable  rage.  The  zealots 
next  betook  themselves  to- the  royal  palace,  in  the  upper  and 
«tronger  part  of  Jerusalem,  styled  also  the  city  of  David,  on 
Mount  Zion.  As  many  of  the  Jews  had  deposited  their 
possessions  in  the  palace  for  security,  they  attacked  it,  killed 
eight  thousand  four  hundred  of  their  countrymen,  and  plun- 
dered their  property. 

18.  The  Roman  army  spent  nearly  twenty  days  in  mak- 
ing great  preparations  for  attacking  the  upper  city,  especial^ 
1y  the  royal  palace ;  during  which  time  many  came  and 
made  their  submission  to  Titus.  The  warlike  engines  then 
pidyed  so  furiously  upon  the  zealots,  that  they  were  seized 
with  a  sudden  panic,  quitted  the  towers  which  were  deemed 
impregnable,  and  ran  like  madmen  towards  Shiloah,  intend- 
ing to  have  attacked  the  wall  of  circumvallation,  and  escaped 
out  of  the  city.  But  being  vigorously^epulsed,  they  endear 
vored  to  coilceal  themselves  ia  subterraneoi^s  passages ;  and 
as  many  as  were  discovered,  were  put  to  death. 

19.  The  conquest  of  Jerusalem  being  now  completed,  the 
Romans  placed  their  ensigns  upon  the  walls  with  triuhlphant 

{oy.  They  next  walked  the  streets,  with  swords  in  their 
lands,  and  killed  all  they  met.  Amidst  the  darkness  6f 
that  awful  night,  fire  was  set  to  the  remaining  divisions  Of 
the  city,  and  Jerusalem,  wrapped  in  flames,  and  bleedii^g  on 
every  side,  sunk  in  utter  ruin  and  destruction.  During  the 
siege,  which  lasted'  nearly  five  months,  upwards  of  eleven 
hundred  [thousand  Jews  perished.  John  and  Simon;  the 
tw6  grand  rebels,  with  seven  hundred  of  the  most  beautiful 
and  vigotous  of  the  Jewish  youth,  w^te  reserved'  to  attend 
tfaci  viictoif's  triumphal  chariot.  Aflilslr  Whi6h  Simon  wutt  i>Ut 
to  death;  and  John,  who  had  stooped  to  b«^  hfslif^,  c6bh 
deifitted  td  perpetual  imprifionmenf. 

How  long  did  the  siege  last  ?— How  rttaiy  J«W8  oerished  in  &s  <' 


MAa 


ORDER  OF  NATURE, 


103 


jdby 
» hiiD 

0  the 

omavi 
ion  U> 
}  they 

s  next 
mder- 
lealots 
^r  and 
dd,  on 

1  their 
,  killed 
i  plun- 

n  mak- 
jpecial- 
ne  and 
es  then 
>  seized 
deemed 
intend 
escaped 

endev- 
;s;  arid 

ited,tl8 


in  their 
ness  df 
sionsbf 
}ding  on 
ring  the 
f  eleven 
ion,  the 
beatitiml 


life,cdtth 


^.  The  number  who  were  taken  captive,  during  the  fatal 
contest  with  the  Romans,  amounted  to  ninetyoseven  thou- 
sand, many  of  whom  were  sent  into  Syria,  and  other  pro- 
vinces, to  be  exposed  on  the  publicl  theatres,  to  fight  like  gla- 
diators, or  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts.  The  number  of 
those  destroyed,  during  the  war,  which  lasted  seven  years, 
is  computed  to  have  been  one  million  four  hundred  and 
sixty-two  thousand.  When  the  sword  had  returned  to  its 
scabbard,  for  want  of  objects  whereon  to  exercise  its  fury, 
and  the  troops  were  satisfied  with  plunder,  Titus  command- 
ed the  whole  city  and  temple  to  be  demolished.  Thus 
were  our  Saviour *s .  prophecies  fulfilled — "  Thine  enemiei 
shall  lay  thee  even  with  the  ground^  and  there  shall  not  he  left 
one  stone  upon  anotJier,^* 


ORDER  OF  NATURE. 

1.  See,  through  this  air,  this  ocean,  &lld  this  earth, 
All  matter  quick,  and  bursting  into  birth. 

Above,  how  high  progressive  life  may  go ! 

Around,  how  wide  f  how  deep  extend  below  ! 

Vast  chain  of  being !  which  from  God  began, 

Natures  ethereal,  human,  angel,  man. 

Beast,  bird,  fish,  insect !  what  no  eye  can  see ; 

No  glass  can  reach  !  from  infinite  to  thee, 

From  thee  to  nothing  !  on  superior  powers 

Were  we  to  press,  inferior  might  on  ours ; 

Or  in  the  full  creation  leave  a  void,  \ 

Where,  one  step  broken,  the  great  scale's  destroyed ; 

From  nature's  chain,  whatever  link  you  strike. 

Tenth  or  ten  thousandth,  breaks  the  chdn  alike. 

2.  What  if  the  foot,  ordain'd  the  dust  to  tread, 
Or  hand  to  toil,  aspir'd  to  be  the  head  ? 

What  if  the  head,  the  eye,  or  ear,  repin'd 
To  serve  mere  engines  of  the  ruling  mind  1 
Just  as  absurd,  for  any  part  to  claim 
To  be  another,  in  this  gen'ral  frame 
Just  as  absurd,  to  mourn  the  tasks  or  painii 
The  great  directing  mind  of  all  ordains. 

lOt  * 


,/ 


104 


THE  FALL  OF  RCXdE. 


il.  All  are  but  ports  of  one  stupendous  whole. 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul ; 
That  changed  through  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same, 
Great  in  the  earth,  as  in  th'  ethereal  frame ; 
Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoma  in  the  trees, 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent^ 
(Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent. 
Breathes  in  our  soul,  informs  our  mortal  part, 
Ab  full,  as  perfect;  in  a  hair  as  heart ; 
As  full,  as  perfect,  in  vile  man  that  mourns, 
As  the  rapt  seraph  that  adores  and  burns ; 
To  him,  no  high,  no  low,  no  great,  no  smaH  ; 
He  fills,  he  bounds,  connects  and  equals  all. 

4.  Cease,  then,  nor  Order  imperfection  name ; 
Our  proper  bliss  depends  on  what  we  blame. 
Know  thy  own  point ;  this  kind,  this  due  degree 
Of  blindness,  weakness,  Heaven  bestows  on  thee. 
Submit  in  this,  or  any  other  sphere. 
Secure  to  be  as  blest  as  thou  canst  bear ; 
Safe  in  the  hand  of  one  disposing  Power, 
Or  in  the  natal,  or  the  mortal  hour. 
All  nature  is  but  art  unknown  to  thee ; 
All  chance,  direction,  which  thou  canst  not  see ; 
All  discord,  harmony,  not  understood ; 
All  partial  evil,  universal  good ; — 
And,  spite  of  pride,  in  erriig  reason's  spite. 
One  truth  is  clear,  "  Whatever  fs,  is  right." 


THE  FALL  OF  ROME. 

1.  After  various  wars  and  competitions,  Constantino,  in 
Che  year  of  Christ  320,  became  sole  master  of  the  Roman 
empire.  He  certainly  did  whatever  could  be  done,  by  an 
accomplished  general  and  statesman,  towards  restoring  the 
empire  to  its  ancient  glory.  But,  alas !  he  did  not  reign 
oVer  the  ancient  Romans.    His  people  had  been  often  de- 

Wh«n  did  Constantinc  b«eom«  master  of  Rom*  P 


MMki 


^^gM^^ 


THE  FALL  OF  ROME. 


105 


felted,  humbled,  enslaved,  and  trampled  in  the  dust  The 
true  Roman  spirit  was  long  since  utterly  extinguished ;  and 
as  we  have  had  occasion  to  observe,  Italv  itself  was  filled 
with  a  mighty  heterogeneous  mass  of  population,  of  no  fixed 
character.  His  Htrong  genius,  for  a  moment,  sustained,  but 
could  not  ultimately  save,  the  falling  fabric. 

2.  The  ambition  of  Constantino  gave  a  taore  fatal  blow 
to  the  Roman  empire,  than  even  the  vices  of  Commodua 
To  secure  to  himself  a  glory  equal  to  that  of  Romulus,  he 
(brmed  the  resolution  of  changing  the  seat  of.  empire.  The 
place  upon  which  he  pitched  as  a  new  capital,  and  which 
should  immortalize  his  name,  was  indeed  well  clmsen.  The 
ancient  city  of  Byzantium  enjoyed  the  finest  port  in  the 
world,  on  the  strait  of  the  Thracian  Bosphorus,  which  com- 
municates with  those  inland  seas,  whose  shores  are  formed 
by  the  most  opulent  and  delightful  countries  of  Europe  and 
Asia.  Thither  Constantino  caused  the  wealth  of  the  empire 
to  be  conveyed ;  and  directly  a  new  and  splendid  city  arose, 
which  was  able  to  rival  ancient  Rome.  That  proud  capi- 
tal, so  long  the  mistress  of  empire,  suddenly  became  but  a 
satellite,  and  was  forsaken  of  honor,  wealth,  and  glory ; 
since  the  emperor,  and  all  who  were  devoted  to  his  interesV 
used  every  possible  means  to  exalt  the  new  seat  of  empire^ 

3.  This  wound  waa  deadly  and  incurable.  It  proved  &- 
tal  not  only  to  one  city,  but  to  the  western  empire.  Rome 
was  utterly  abandoned  by  Constantino ;  nor  was  it  much 
alleviated  under  his  successors,  among  whom  a  permanent 
division  of  the  empire  taking  place,  Rome  and  Italy  fell 
under  the  government  of  a  series  of  weak,  miserable,  short- 
lived tyrants,  who  rose  by  conspiracy,  and  fell  by  murder, 
in  rapid  succession ;  till,  in  the  476th  year,  of  the  Christian 
sra,  Augustulus,  the  last  of  the  Roman  emperors,  was  con> 
quered  and  dethroned  by  Odoacer,  king  of  the  Henili,  who, 
at  the  head  of  an  immense  army  of  barbarians,  overrun  all 
Italy,  and  put  a  period  to  the  western  empire. 

4.  Thus  ended  Rome,  after  having  stood  1229  years.. 
When  we  consider  the  length  of  her  duration,  her  character, 
and  the  nature  and  extent  of  her  resources,  we  shall  not 

What  method  did  Constantine  adopt  to  immortalize  his  name  ^— 
What  was  the  original  naiue  of  Constantinople  ?— Who  put  a  period 
to  the  Roman  empire  ? — ^When  did  he  do  it?— >fiow  Innsr  had  Rome 
then  existed  ? 


■•■...    ■     "*" 


i(H$ 


RISE  OF  MAHOMET ANISM. 


::|'^i 


hesitate  to  pronounce  her  the  most  powerful  and  hnportant 
city  which  ever  existed,  and  as  standing  at  th^  head  of 
the  first  rank  of  cities.  But  if  this  remark  is  true  of  Rome 
in  the  limes  of  which  we  are  now  speaking,  it  will  serve  to 
awaken  our  admiration,  when  we  consider  that  Rome  surviv- 
ed even  this  shock ;  and,  as  though  she  was  destined  to  bear 
rule,  from  being  the  head  of  a  most  powerful  empire,  she  s^n 
l)ecame  the  head  of  an  ecclesiastical  institution  not  less  pow^ 
erful.  She  spread  her  wing  over  all  the  powers  of  Europe. 
They  trembled  at  her  mandates.  She  deposed  monarchs  al 
her  pleasure,  trampled  on  crowns  and  sceptres,  and,  for  ten 
centuries,  exerted  the  most  despotic  sovereignty.  She  is,  even 
to  this  day,  one  of  the  finest  cities  in  the  world. 


u\  -• 


RISE  OF  MAHOMETANISM. 


•V 


1.  Whatever  might  h&ve  been  the  extraction  of  Maho- 
met, his  property  was  small.  He  engaged  himself  as  a  ser* 
vant  to  a  rich  widow  of  Mecca,  who  bestowed  on  him  her 
hand  and  her  fortune,  and  raised  him  to  the  rank  of  an  opi»> 
lent  citizen.  He  is  said  t6  have  been  a  man  of  extraordinary 
bodily  and  mental  accomplishments.  The  former  part  of  his 
character  is  probable,  the  latter  is  unquestionable.  The  en- 
dowments of  his  mind,  however,  were  the  gifts  of  nature, 
not  of  education,  since,  as  it  is  asserted,  he  was  wholly  illite- 
rate.— Such  was  the  man,  wlio  was  destined  to  effect  the 
greatest  revolution  in  human  ideas,  as  well  as  in  human  af- 
fairs, that  has  ever  taken  place  since  the  establishment  of 
Christianity.  Inspired  by  enthusiasm  or  ambition,  he  with- 
drew to  a  cave  about  three  miles  from  the  city,  and  having 
there  spent  som^  time  in  silent  contemplation,  announced 
himself  a  prophet  6f  the  Most  High,  and  proclaimed  the  re- 
ligion of  the  Koran. 

2.  The  religion  then  prevailing  in  Arabia  was  Zabaism, 
vhich,  as  in  all  other  c-ountries,  had  degenerated  into  the 
grossest  idolatry ;  but  as  universal  toleration  and  uncivilized 


How  did  Mahomet  acquire  his  riches  ? — ^Where  was  the 
nritten  ? — ^What  was  the  leligioli  of  Arabia  when  Mahomet 


written 
hiB  career  ? 


Koran 
began 


mm 


)6r^t 
iad  of 
Rome 
erve  to 
surviv- 
tobeiBir 
hesi|on 
sspow- 
Europe, 
iirchs  al 
foi  ten 
is,  even 


■   ■■  ■-*   , 

if  Maho- 
as  a  sef* 
him  her 
r  an  optv 
tbrdinary 
art  of  his 
The  en- 
nature. 

)lly  illite- 
iflfect  the 
uman  af- 
iment  of 
he  with- 
_  having 
mounced 
sd  the  re- 

Zabaism, 
into  the 
icivilized 


Ithe  Koran 
Imet  began 


s^ti^^ji^ifei 


RISE  OF  MAHOMETANISM. 


107 


fieedom  there  prevailed,  while  the  adjacent  countrief  were 
shaken  with  the  storms  of  conquest  and  tyranny,  the  victime 
of  political  and  religious  oppression  took  refuge  in  the  deep 
recesses  of  those  extensive  deserts.  In  the  reigns  of  Titus 
and  Adrian,  great  numbers  of  Jews  had  retired  into  Arabia, 
and  Christians  of  all  the  persecuted  sects  had  sought  thci 
same  calm  retreat.  Arabia,  therefore,  displayed  a  mixture  of 
Pagans,  Jews,  and  Christians  of  all  sects  and  denominations 

3.  Mahomet,  although  destitute  of  literature,  had  studied 
the  book  of  nature  and  of  man,  and  conceived  the  great  de- 
sign of  instituting  a  religion  that  might  unite  all  the  Arab^ 
ans  under  its  banners ;  and  his  scheme  was  admirably  calci>' 
lated  for  that  purpose.  His  observations  on  the  state  of  ths 
world  might  convince  him  that  idolatry  was  not  only  an  ud- 
reasonable,  but  a  declining  system.  His  naturally  strong 
understanding  and  sound  judgment  would  enable  him  to  per- 
ceive the  existence  of  one  Supreme  and  sole  Deity  to  be  so 
rational  an  artic  of  belief,  that  no  permanent  system  of 
religion  could  be  established,  except  on  that  solid  basis.  By 
testifying  his  regard  for  the  Scriptures,  and  acknowledging 
the  prophetic  character  and  divine  mission  of  Moses  and  Je- 
ans, he  lessened  the  prejudices  of  the  Jews  and  Christians 
against  his  doctrine,  while  his  recommendation  and  practice 
of  prayer,  fasting,  and  mass,  acquired  him  the  reputation  of 
superior  sanctity. 

4.  Comprising  in  his  grard  design  a  military,  as  well  as  a 
religious  system,  he  promised  a  paradise  of  sensual  delights 
to  dl  who  should  fall  in  the  cause  of  his  faith.  He  allowea 
polygamy,  to  which  he  knew  the  Arabians  to  be  strongly  hw 
dined ;  but  he  reprobated  drunkenness,  to  which  they  had 
much  less  propensity.  Considering  intoxication  as  a  vice 
degrading  to  human  nature,  and  incompatible  with  a  capa- 
city for  great  understandings,  he  resolved  to  take  away  the 
temptation  to  a  habit  so  pernicious,  by  prohibiting  the  use 
of  inebriating  liquors.  To  investigate  all  the  particulars  of 
his  system  would  lead  to  a  tedious  prolixity ;  and  it  suffices 
to  observe,  that  they  were  admiral^^y  adapted  to  the  ideas  and 
cnrcumstances  of  his  countrymen.  His  pretensions,  howevei; 
to  a  celestial  authority,  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  citizens 
of  Mecca,  and  a  powerful  faction  expelled  him  from  his  na- 
tive city. 

5.  In  the  year  of  the  Christian  lera  622,  the  memorable 


^m 


,^hm 


108 


RISE  OF  MAH0METANI9M. 


UrH 


\f'i' 


ii.J! 


r.'. 


epoch  of  the  Hegira,  Mahomet,  with  hie  friend  Abubekar^ 
and  a  few  other  followers,  escaping  from  Mecca,  fled  to  Me- 
dina, where  he  assumed  the  military,  as  well  as  the  prophetie 
character.  Having  made  many  proselytes  in  that  place,  he 
assembled  a  determined  and  daring  band,  inspired  with  ei>- 
thusiasm,  and  animated  with  the  expectation  of  ^  paradise  of 
sensual  delights,  which  he  promised  to  al!  his  followers,  but 
in  a  superior  degree  of  glory  and  pleasure  to  those  who  should 
fall  in  the  cause  of  the  Koran.  This  was  the  first  vital  spark 
of  the  empire  of  the  Arabs.  Here  he  asi;umed  the  exercise 
of  the  regal  as  well  as  the  sacerdotal  function ;  and  declared^ 
himself  authorized  to  use  force  as  well  as  persuasion,  in 
order  to  propagate  his  doctrines.  Liberty  of  conscience  was 
granted  to  Christians  and  Jews,  on  condition  of  the  payment 
of  tribute  ;  but  to  idolaters,  no  other  alternative  was  left  but 
conversion  or  the  sword.  /  « 

6.  By  inculcating,  in  the  most  absolute  sense,  the  doc- 
trines of  fate  aild  predestination,  he  extinguished  the  princi- 
ples of  fear,  and  exalted  the  courage  of  his  followers  into  a 
dauntless  confidence.  By  impressing  strongly  on  the  ardent 
imiigination  of  the  Arabs  a  voluptuous  picture  of  the  invisi- 
ble world,  he  brought  them  to  regard  death  as  an  object  not 
of  dread,  but  of  hope  and  desire.  From  all  sides,  the  rovers 
of  the  desert  were  allured  to  the  standard  of  religion  and 
plunder ;  and  the  holy  robbers  ware  soon  able  to  intercept 
the  trading  caravans.  In  all  enterprises  of  danger  and  diffi- 
culty, their  leader  promised  them  the  assistance  of  the  angel 
Gabriel,  with  his  legions  of  the  heavenly  host ;  and  his  au- 
thoritative eloquence  impressed  on  their  enthusiastic  imagi- 
nations the  forms  of  those  angelic  warriors,  invisible  to  mortal 
eyes.  By  these  arts,  he  inspired  his  followers  with  an  irre- 
sistible enthusiasm. 

7.  A  regular  war  was  commenced  between  the  Mahome- 
tans and  the  inhabitants  of  Mecca,  in  consequence, of  an 
attack  by  the  former  upon  a  caravan  belonging  to  the  latter. 
The  caravan  was  plundered,  although  ii.  was  escorted  by  950 
men,  while  the  assailants  ^moulted  to  no  more  than  313. 
In  the  year  625,  the  Meccans,  with  about  10,000  men,  laid 
siege  to  Medina,  but  without  success ;  and  Anally  lost  all 


Wh&t  is  Mahomet's  flight  to  Medina  called  f — When  did  it  take  place  ? 
—What  toleration  did  he  allow  the  Jews  and  Christians  of  Aruia  > 


RISE  OF  MAHOMETANISM 


lOd 


)  Me- 

>hetiB 
te,  he 
the»- 
ise  of 
rs,  but 
should 
spark 
terciae 
jclared! 
ion,  in 
ce  was 
aiyment 
left  but 

le  doc- 
princi- 
3  into  a 
}  ardent 
e  invisi- 
(ject  not 
e  rovers 
ion  and 
ntercept 
nd  diffi- 
le  angel 
his  au- 
imagi- 
lo  mortal 
an  irre- 

lahome- 
be,of  an 
|ie  latter. 

by  950 
kan  313. 
len,  laid 

lost  all 


ike  place? 
rnbia? 


hopes  of  subverting  the  throne,  or  of  putting  a  stop  to  the 
conquests  of  the  exiled  prophet.  Mahomet,  encouraged  bY 
their  defeat,  directed  his  attention  to  the  subjugation  of  Mec- 
ca, his  native  city.  His  power  had  increased  by  the  submis 
sion  of  several  Arabian  tribes ;  and  his  army,  which  consisted 
of  a  few  hundreds  only,  now  amounted  to  10,000  enthusi 
astic  warriors.  Mecca  surrendered  on  his  approach,  and 
acknowledged  him  as  the  apostle  of  God.  Thus,  after  sevev 
years  of  exile,  the  fugitive  was  enthroned  as  the  prince  and 
prophet  of  his  country.  , 

8.  The  conquest  of  Mecca  determined  the  faith  and  obe- 
dience of  the  principal  Arabian  tribes ;  and  the  obstinate 
remnant,  which  still  adhered  to  the  idolatry  of  their  ances- 
tors, was  soon  subdued  or  extirpated.  The  fpnous  kaaba, 
or  pantheon  of  Mecca,  was  purified,  and  350  idods,  with  which 
it  was  defiled,  were  broken  in  pieces.  The  sentence  of  de- 
struction was  in  the  same  manner  executed  on  all  the  idols 
of  Arabu.  All  the  people  of  that  vast  country  adopted  the 
worship  of  one  God,  and  acknowledged  Mahomet  as  his 
prophet  and  their  sovereign.  The  rites  of  pilgrimage  were, 
through  piety  or  policy,  re-established.  The  prophet  him- 
self set  an  example  to  future  ages,  by  fulfilling  the  duties  of 
a  pilgrim  ;  and  114,000  pious  believers  accompanied  his  last 
visii  to  the  kaaba,  or  house  of  God.  A  perpetual  ^aw  was 
also  enacted,  prohibiting  all  unbelievers  in  the  Koran  from 
setting  foot  within  the  precincts  of  the  holy  city. 

9.  A  revolution  was  thus  effected  in  an  obscure  corner  of 
the  world,  which  shortly  after  subverted  or  shook  the  most 
powerful  monarchies,  and  extended  its  effects  to  the  distant 
regions  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe.  The  prophet  of  Ara- 
bia commenced  hostilities  with  the  Greek  empire,  and  un- 
furled his  banners  on  the  confines  of  Syria ;  but  after  having 
lost  some  of  his  most  intrepid  commanders,  without  having 
made  any  gr^at  progress,  the  war  was  neither  of  long  con- 
tinuance, nor  productive  of  any  remarkable  events.  The 
mission  and  life  of  Mahomet  now  drew  near  to  an  end.  Dur- 
ing the  space  of  four  years,  his  health  had  gradually  declin- 
ed ;  but  till  the  third  day  preceding  his  dissolution,  he 
performed  the  functions  of  public  prayer,  and  asserting  to  the 
last  the  divine  authority  of  his  mission,  he  expired  at  about 

-  -       -  ~  ,  I     III Bii,  ■■  w^i^fci— I— M^— «—PiiM  ■    I   iMii  ■■   ■ mm  I      ■■■■■ 

How  long  had  Mahomet  been  exiled  fiom  M^tcea,  when  it  surrert' 
doFed  to  his  arms  ^ 
11 


''W^y 


■pppi 


110 


EMPIRE  OF  CHINA. 


the  age  of  sixty-three,  with  the  firmness  of  a  philosopher,  and 
the  faith  of  an  enthusiast. 

10.  In  making  an  impartial  estimate  of  the  qualifications 
which  distinguished  the  prophet  of  Arabia,  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged that  the  vigor  of  his  mind,  and  the  measure  of 
his  intellectual  powers,  appear  to  have  been  extraordinary. 
At  the  commencement  of  his  mission,  his  hopes  could  rest 
only  on  a  very  precarious  foundation.  The  difficulties  which 
he  had  to  encounter  were  great.  During  a  considerable 
time,  converts  were  slowly  made,  and  his  prospects  of  suc- 
cess v;ere  far  from  being  such  as  could  animate  his  efi(H'ts, 
or  flatter  his  hopes.  Amidst  all  these  embarrassing  circum- 
stances, his  enterprising  spirit,  his  steady  fortitude,  and  his 
patient  perseverance,  command  admiration. 

11.  But  among  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  his 
mind,  his  extraordinary  talent  of  knowing  mankind  is  the 
most  remarkable.  No  one  had  ever  more  accurately  or  more 
"uccessfully  studied  human  nature.  No  one  more  exactly 
kne^  w'.<dL  suited  the  ideas  and  inclinations  of  men,  or  more 
perfectly  understood  the  method  of  gaining  an  ascendency 
over  their  minds,  and  of  rendering  their  passions  subservient 
to  a  great  design.  An  impartial  view  of  the  character  of 
this  extraordinary  man  shows  that  he  was  formed  for  every 
thing  that  is  great,  that  his  ideas  were  grand!  and  elevated, 
and  his  views  extensive. 


EMPIRE  OF  CHINA. 

1.  The  antiquity  of  this  vast  empire,  and  the  state  of  its 
government,  laws,  manners,  and  attainments  in  the  arts  and 
sciences,  have  furnished  a  most  ample  field  of  controversy. 
Voltaire,  Raynal,  and  other  writers  of  similar  principles, 
have,  for  the  purpose  of  discreditmg  the  scriptural  account  of 
the  origin  of  mankind,  and  the  received  notions  of  the  age 
of  the  universe,  given  to  the  Chinese  empire  an  immense 
antiquity,  and  a  character  of  such  high  civilization  and  know* 
icdge  of  the  sciences  and  arts  at  tiiat  remote  period,  as  to  be 
utterly  irreconcilable  with  the  state  and  progress  of  man,  as 
described  in  the  books  of  Moses.    On  the  other  hand,  it  is 

At  what  age  did  Mahomet  die  ? 


EMPIRE  OP  CHINA. 


Ill 


,and 

tions 
B  ac- 
re of 
inary. 
d  rest 
which 
erable 
f  suc- 
jfforts, 
ircum- 
ad  his 

of  his 
is  the 
jr  more 
exactly 
or  more 
mdency 
serviep* 
cter  of 
r  every 
evated, 


Lie  of  its 
arts  and 
troversy. 
;inciples, 
count  of 
the  age 
immense 
id  know* 
[,  as  to  be 
■  man,  as 
land,  it » 


probable  that  the  desire  of  invalidating  those  opinions  has 
induced  other  writers  of  ability  to  go  to  kn  opposite  extreme ; 
to  undervalue  this  singular  people,  and  to  give  .00  little  weight 
to  any  accounts  which  we  have,  either  of  the  duration  of  their 
empire,  the  economy  of  their  government  and  police,  or  of 
their  attainments  in  the  arts  and  sciences.  Amidst  this  con- 
trariety of  sentiments,  we  shall  endeavor  to  form  s^uch  opinion 
as  appears  most  consonant  to  the  truth. 

2.  The  panegyrists  of  the  Chinese  assert  that  their  em- 
pire has  subsisted  above  4000  years,  without  any  material 
alteration  in  its  laws,  manners,  language,  or  even  fashion  of 
dress;  in  evidence  of  which  they  appeal  to  a  series  of 
eclipses,  marking  contemporary  events,  all  accurately  calcu- 
lated, for  2155  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ.  As  it  is 
easy  to  calculate  eclipses  backwards  from  the  present  day  to 
any  given  period  of  time,  it  is  thus  possible  to  give  to  a  his^ 
tory,  fictitious  from  beginning  to  end,  its  chronology  of  real 
eclipses.  This  proof,  therefore,  amounts  to  nothing,  unless 
it  were  likewise  proved  that  all  those  eclipses  were  actually 
recorded  at  the  time  when  they  happened  ;  but  this  neither 
has  been  nor  can  be  done ;  for  it  is  an  allowed  fact,  that 
there  are  no  regular  historical  records  beyond  the  third  centu- 
ry before  the  Christian  sera.  The  present  Chinese  are  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  motions  of  the  celestial  bodies,  and  cannot  cal- 
culate eclipses.  The  series  mentioned  has  therefore  in  all 
probability  been  calculated  by  some  of  the  Jesuits  to  ingra- 
tiate ,  themselves  with  the  emperors,  and  flatter  the  national 
vanity.  The  Jesuits  have  presided  in  the  tribunal  of  ma- 
thematics for  above  200  years. 

3.  But  if  the  authentic  annals  of  this  empire  go  back  even 
to  the  third  century  before  Christ,  and  record  at  that  time  a 
high  state  of  civilization,  we  must  allow  that  the  Chinese  are 
an  ancient  and  early  polished  people,  and  that  they  have  pos- 
sessed a  singular  constancy  in  their  goverument,  laws,  and 
manners.  Sir  William  Jones,  no  bigoted  encomiast  of  this 
people,  allows  their  great  antiquity  and  early  civilization, 
and,  with  much  apparent  probability,  traces  their  origin  from 
the  Hindoos.  lie  appeals  to  the  ancient  Sanscreet  records, 
which  mention  a  migration  from  India  of  the  military  class 
termed  Chinas,  to  the  countries  cast  from  Bengal.    The  sta- 

To  whom  does  Sir  William  Jonet  trao«  th«  origin  of  the  ChinMt  ^ 


112 


EMPIRE  OF  CHINA. 


m 


w 


m 


tionaiy  condition  of  the  arts  and  sciences  in  China  prores 
that  these  have  not  originated  with  that  people ;  and  many 
peculiarities  of  the  manners,  institutions,  and  popular  reli- 
gion of  the  Chinese,  have  a  near  affinity  with  those  of  the 
Hindoos. 

-t'4.  The  government  of  China  is  that  of  an  absolute  rao- 
narchy.  The  patriarchal  system  pervades  the  whole,  and 
binds  all  the  members  of  this  vast  empire  in  the  strictest  sub- 
ordination. Every  father  is  absolute  in  hi,^  family,  and  may 
inflict  any  punishment  short  of  death  upon  his  children. 
The  mandarin  of  the  district  is  absolute,  with  the  power  of 
life  and  death  over  all  its  members ;  but  a  capital  sentence 
cannot  be  inflicted  without  the  emperor's  approbation.  The 
emperor's  power  is  absolute  over  all  the  mandarins,  and 
every  subject  of  the  empire.  To  reconcile  the  people  to  this 
despotic  authority,  the  sovereign  alone  is  entitled  to  relieve 
the  wants  of  the  poor,  and  to  compensate  public  calamities, 
'as  well  as  the  misfbrtunes  of  individuals.  He  is  therefore 
if«garded  as  the  father  of  his  people,  and  even  adored  as  a 
benevolent  divinity. 

5.  Another  circumstance  which  conciliates  the  people  to 
their  government  is,  that  all  honors  in  China  are  conferred 
according  to  merit,  and  that  chiefly  literary.  The  civil  man- 
darins, who  are  the  magistrates  and  judges,  are  appointed  to 
office  according  to  their  measure  of  knowledge  and  mental 
endowments.  No  office  or  rank  is  hereditary,  but  may  be 
aspired  to  by  the  meanest  of  the  people.  The  penal  la^s  of 
China  are  remarkably  severe,  but  their  execution  may  be  re- 
mitted by  the  emperor.  The  judicial  tribunals  art  regulat- 
ed by  a  body  of  written  laws  of  great  antiquity,  and  founded 
on  the  basis  of  universal  justice  and  equity.  The  emperor's 
opinion  rarely  differs  from  the  sentences  of  those  courts. 
One  tribunal  judges  of  the  qualification  of  the  mandarins ; 
another  regulates  the  morals  of  the  people,  and  the  national 
manners ;  a  third  is  the  tribunal  of  censors,  which  reviews 
the  laws,  the  conduct  of  the  magistrates  and  judges,  and 
even  that  of  the  emperor  himself.  These  tribunals  are  filled 
by  an  equal  number  of  Chinese  and  Tartars. 


What  is  tha  govenuneat  of  China  ? — ^How  are  honon  Ib  Chins 
•oaferred '  » 


EMPIRE  OF  CHINA. 


lid 


OTes 

lany 

reli- 

the 


rao- 
,  and 

sub- 
imay 
dreiu 
rer  of 
Ltence 

The 
I,  and 
to  this 
relieve 
mities, 
srefore 
Bd  as  a 

jople  to 

iferred 
ilman- 
inted  to 

mental 
[may  be 

laws  of 
bere- 
egulat- 
mded 
iperor's 
courts, 
idaiins ; 
I  national 
reviews 
res,  and 
Ire  filled 


U  Chins 


6.  It  has  been  observed,  that  the  sciences  have  been  sta- 
tionary in  this  empire  for  manjr  ages ;  and  they  are  at  this 
day  extremely  low,  though  far  beyond  the  attainments  of  a 
barbarous  people.  The  language  of  China  seems  to  oppose 
the  prosecution  of  speculative  researches.  It  has  no  regular 
inflections,  and  can  with  difficulty  eiqpresd  abstract  ideas. 
We  have  remarked  the  ignorance  of  the  Chinese  in  mathe- 
matics and  astronomy.  Of  physics  they  have  no  acquaint- 
ance beyond  the  knowledge  of  apparent  facts.  They  never 
ascend  to  principles,  or  form  theories.  Their  knowledge  of 
medicine  is  extremely  limited,  and  is  blended  with  the  most 
contemptible  superstition.  Of  anatomy,  they  know  next  to 
nothing  ;  and  in  surgery,  they  have  never  ventured  to  ampu- 
tate a  limb,  or  to  reduce  a  fracture. 

7.  The  state  of  the  useful  and  elegant  arts  has  been  equal 
ly  stationary  as  that  of  the  sciences.  They  have  attained, 
many  years  ago,  to  a  certain  point  of  advancement,  which 
they  have  never  gone  beyond.  The  Chinese  are  said  to  have 
manufactured  glass  for  2000  years,  yet  at  this  day  it  is  infe- 
rior in  transparency  to  the  European,  and  is  not  used  in  their 
windows.  GunpoVder  they  are  reported  to  have  knoWn  from 
time  immemorial,  but  they  never  employed  it  in  artillery  or 
fire-arms  till  taught  by  the  Europeans.  Printing  they  are 
said  to  have  invented  in  the  age  of  Julius  Caesar ;  yet  they 
know  not  the  use  of  moveable  types,  but  ]|$rint  from  blocks 
of  wood.  When  first  shown  the  use  of  the  compass  in  sail- 
ing, they  athrmed  that  they  were  well  acquainted  with  it,  but 
found  no  occasion  to  employ  it.  The  art  of  painting  in  Chi- 
na is  mere  mechanical  imitation,  without  grace,  expression, 
or  even  accuracy  of  proportions.  Of  the  rules  of  perspective 
they  have  not  the  smallest  idea.  In  sculpture,  as  in  the  fi- 
gures of  their  idols,  the  Chinese  artists  seem  to  delight  iA  dif^ 
tortion  and  deformity.  Their  music  is  not  regulated  by  any 
principle  of  science ;  they  have  no  semi-tones  ;  and  their  in- 
struments are  imperfect  and  untunable.  The  Chinese  archi- 
tecture has  variety,  lightness,  and  sometimes  elegance,  but 
has  no  grandetir  or  symmetrical  beauty. 

8.  Yet,  in  some  of  the  arts,  the  Chinese  hSive  attained  to 
great  perfection.     Agriculture  is  carried  in  China  to  the 

What  if  the  state  of  the  scienoes  in  China  at  this  time  !*— What 
arts  in  China  are  carried  to  a  great  degree  of  perfection  ? 

11* 


114 


EMPIRE  OF  CHINA. 


m 


highest  pitch  of  improvement.  There  is  not  a  spot  of  waste 
land  in  the  whole  empire,  nor  any  which  is  not  highly  culti- 
vated. The  emperor  himself  is  the  chief  of  the  husbaird- 
meni  and  annually  holds  the  plough  with  his  own  hands. 
Hence,  and  from  the  modes  of  economizing  food,  is  support- 
ed the  astonishing  population  of  333  millions,  or  260  inhabitr- 
ants  to  every  square  mile  of  the  empire.  The  gardening  of 
the  Chinese,  and  their  admirable  embellishment  of  rural  na- 
ture, have  of  late  been  the  object  of  imitation  in  Europe, 
but  with  far  inferior  success.  The  manufacture  of  porcelain 
i  an  original  invention  of  this  people  ;  and  the  Europeans, 
though  excelling  them  in  the  form  and  ornament  of  the  uten- 
sils, have  never  been  able  to  attain  to  the  excellence  of  the 
material. 

9.  The  morals  of  the  Chinese  have  furnished  much  subject 
both  of  encomium  and  censure.  The  books  of  Confucius 
are  said  to  contain  a  most  admirable  system  of  morality ;  but 
the  principles  of  morals  have  their  foundation  in  human  na- 
ture, and  must,  in  theory,  be  every  where  the  same.  The 
moral  virtues  of  a  people  are  not  to  be  estimated  from  the 
books  of  their  philosophers.  It  is  probable  that  the  manners 
of  the  superior  classes  are,  in  China,  as  elsewhere,  much  in- 
fluenced by  education  and  example.  The  morals  of  the  low- 
er classes  are  said  to  be  beyond  measure  loose,  and  their 
practices  most  dishonest;  nor  are  they  regulated  by  any  prin- 
ciple but  selfish  interest,  or  restrained  but  by  the  fear  of 
punishment. 

10.  The  religion  of  the  Chinese  is  different  in  the  difTer- 
ent  ranks  of  society.  There  is  no  religion  of  the  state. 
The  emperor  and  the  higher  mandarins  profess  the  belief  of 
one  Supreme  Being,  ChangU,  whom  they  worship  by  prayer 
and  thanksgiving,  without  any  mixture  of  idolatrous  prac- 
tices. They  respect  the  Lama  of  Thibet,  as  the  high-priest 
or  prophet  of  this  religion.  A  prevalent  sect  is  that  of  Tao- 
ssCf  who  believe  in  the  power  of  magic,  the  agency  of  spirits, 
and  the  divining  of  future  events.  A  third  is  the  sect  of  i^o 
Jerived  from  India,  whoso  priests  are  the  Bonzes,  and  whose 

undamental  doctrine  is,  that  all  things  rose  out  of  nothing, 

Wh^it  Chinese  writer  is  said  to  have  a  ^ood  sjstem  of  morality  r- 
Wh&t  are  the  morals  of  the  lower  classes  in  China  ? — What  is  tftu  i^- 
Agion  of  the  emperor  and  the  higher  mandarins  ? 


EMPIRE  OF  CHINA. 


115 


and  finally  must  return  to  it ;  that  all  animals  are  first  to  un- 
dergo a  series  of  transmigrations ;  and  that,  as  man's  chief 
happiness  is  to  approach  as  near  as  possible  to  a  state  of  an- 
nihilation in  this  life,  absolute  idleness  is  more  laudable  than 
occupation  of  any  kind.  A  variety  of  hideous  idols  are  wor- 
shipped by  this  sect. 

II.  The  Chinese  have  their  sacred  books,  termed  Kings, 
which,  amidst  some  good  moral  precepts,  contain  much  mys- 
tery, childish  superstition,  and  absurdity.  These  are  clliefiy 
resorted  to  for  the  divining  of  future  events,  which  seems  the 
ultimatum  of  research  among  the  Chinese  philosophers.  The 
observation  of  the  heavenly  bodies  is  made  for  that  purpose 
alone  ;  the  changes  of  weather,  the  performance  or  omission 
of  certain  ceremonies,  the  occurrence  of  certain  events  in 
particular  times  and  places,  are  all  believed  to  have  their  in- 
fluence on  futurity,  and  are  therefore  carefully  observed  and 
recorded  ;  and  the  rules  by  which  those  omens  are  interpret- 
ed are  said  to  have  been  described  by  the  great  Confucius, 
tlie  father  of  the  Chinese  philosophy,  500  years  before  the 
Christian  sera. 

1%  We  conclude,  on  the  whole,  that  the  Chinese  are  a 
very  remarkable  people ;  that  their  government,  litws,  policy, 
and  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  exhibit  unquestiona* 
ble  proofs  of  great  antiquity  and  early  civilization ;  but  that 
the  extraordinary  measure  of  duration  assigned  to  their  em- 
pire by  some  modern  writers,  rests  on  no  modern  proof;  nor 
are  their  government,  laws,  manners,  arts,  or  scientific  attain- 
ments, at  all  deserving  of  that  superlative  and  most  exagger- 
ated encomium  which  has  been  bestowed  on  them. 

13.  From  time's  remotest  dawn,  where  China  brings. 
In  proud  succession,  all  her  patriot  kings ; 
0*er  desert  sands,  deep  gulfs,  and  hills  sublime, 
Extends  her  massy  wall  from  clime  to  dime ; 
With  bells  and  dragons  crests  her  pagod-bowera, 
Her  silken  palaces,  and  porcelain  towers ; 
With  long  canals  a  thousand  nations  laves ; 
Plants  all  her  wilds,  and  peoples  all  her  wavei. 


ality  ?- 


^ip 


»y 


Pii 


110  CHARLES  V. 

CHARLES  V.  EMPEROR  OF  GERMANY. 

1.  Charles  V.  emperor  of  Germany,  king  of  Spain,  and 
lord  of  the  Netherlands,  was  born  at  Ghent,  in  the  year  1500. 
He  is  said  to  have  fought  sixty  battles,  in  most  of  which  he 
was  victorious ;  to  have  obtained  six  triumphs,  conquered 
four  kingdoms,  and  to  have  added  eight  principalities  to  his 
dominions ;  an  almost  unparalleled  instance  of  worldly  pros- 
perity, and  the  greatness  of  human  glory. 

2.  But  all  these  fruits  of  his  ambition,  and  all  the  honors 
that  attended  him,  could  not  yield  true  and  solid  satisfaction. 
Reflecting  on  the  evils  and  miseries  which  he  had  occasion- 
ed, and  convinced  of  the  emptiness  of  earthly  magnificence 
he  became  disgusted  with  all  the  splendor  that  surrounded 
him ;  and  thought  it  his  duty  to  withdraw  from  it,  and  spend 
the  rest  of  his  days  in  religious  retirement. 

3.  Accordingly,  he  voluntarily  resigned  all  his  dominions 
to  his  brother  and  son  ^  and  after  taking  an  affectionate  and 
last  farewell  of  his  son,  and  a  numerous  retinue  of  princes 
and  nobility  that  respectfully  attended  him,  he  repaired  to 
his  chosen  retreat.  It  was  situated  in  Spain,  in  a  vale  of  no 
great  extent,  watered  by  a  small  brook,  and  surrounded  with 
rising  grounds  covered  with  lofty  trees. 

4.  A  deep  sense  of  his  frail  condition  and  great  imperfec- 
tions appears  to  have  impressed  his  mipd  in  thi?  extraordi- 
nary resolution,  and  through  the  r3mainder  of  his  life.  As 
soon  as  he  landed  in  Spain,  he  fell  prostrate  on  the  ground, 
and  considering  himself  now  as  dead  to  the  world,  4ie  kissed 
the  earth,  and  said,  "  Naked  came  I  into  the  world,  and 
naked  I  now  return  to  thee,  thou  common  mother  of  man- 
kind!" 

5.  In  this  humble  retreat,  he  spent  his  time  in  religious 
exercises  and  innocent  employments ;  and  buried  here  in 
solitude  and  silence,  his  grandeur,  his  ambition,  together 
with  all  those  vast  projects,  which  for  near  half  a  century 
had  alarmed  and  agitated  Europe,  and  filled  every  kingdom 
in  it,  by  turns,  with  the  terror  of  his  arms,  and  the  dread  of 
being  subjected  to  his  power. 

Where  and  when  was  Charles  V.  born  ? — How  many  battled  is  lie 
•aid  to  have  fought  ? — How  many  kingdoms  ~to  have  conquerea  ? — 
What  extraordinary  act  •haracteriied  the  latter  part  of  his  life  ? 


MAHOMEX- 


lit 


,  and 
L500. 

ih  he 
lered 
to  his 
pros- 

lonors 

ction. 

asion- 

:ence 

unded 

spend 


6.  Far  from  taking  any  part  iii  the  political  transactioni 
of  the  world,  he  restrained  his  curiosity  even  from  any  in- 
quiry concerning  them;  and  seemed  to  view  the  hiisy  scene 
he  had  abandoned  with  an  elevation  and  indifference  of 
mind  which  arose  from  his  thorough  experience  of  its  vanity; 
as  well  as  from  the  pleasing  reflection  of  having  disengaged 
himself  from  its  cares  and  temptations. 

7.  Here  he  enjoyed  more  complete  contentment  than  all 
his  grandeur  had  ever  yielded  him ;  as  a  full  proof  of  which 
he  left  this  short  but  comprehensive  testimony;  "I  have 
tasted  more  satisfaction  in  my  solitude  in  one  day,  than  in 
all  the  triumphs  of  my  former  reign;  The  sincere  study, 
profession,  and  practice  of  the  Christian  religion,  have  in 
them  such  joys  and  sweetness,  as  are  seldom  found  in  courts 
and  grandeur." 


imions 
te  and 
)rinces 
ired  to 
e  of  no 
;d  with 

perfeo- 
xaordi- 
e.  As 
rround, 
kissed 
Id,  and 
ff  man- 

eligious 
lere  in 
ogether 
century 
ingdom 
read  of 


tleti  is  Ue 
aered  ? — 
ife? 


MAHOMET. 

1.  O'br  fair  Arabia's  spicy  plains. 

By  foul  Mahomet's  flag  unfurl'd, 
Despotic  superstition  reigns. 
Clanking  aloft  her  mental  chains ; 
Affrighting,  blinding,  half  the  abject  eastern  world. 

2.  As  spreads  the  mountain  torrent  wide, 

With  dreadful  desolating  course ; 
So,  bursting  forth  on  every  side, 
Urg'd  by  ambition,  lust,,  and  pride. 
The  bloody  prophet  strides  with  overwhelming  forw. 

3.  So  was  the  beauteous  East  despoil'd 

Of  nature's  gifls ;  of  arts  renown'd : 
Her  shady  groves,  her  mountains  wild ; 
Her  fanes  o'erthrown,  in  ruins  pil'd ; 
Or  clear'd,  to  let  his  mosque  profane  the  hallowM  ground; 

4.  Alofl  the  gilded'crescent  now 

(Where  once  the  cross)  triumphatlt  reaMj 
Blind  ignorance  bids  her  votaries  bow, 
Repeat  the  Koran,  breathe  the  vow, 
Of  vainly  pray  to  one  who  neither  sees  nor  heam. 


118 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTRM. 


5.       The  Turk's  own  mind  example  gives, 
Of  what  such  superstition  breeds ; 

Debased,  luxurious,  proud,  he  lives ; 

Despises  knowledge,  and  believes 
His  sword,  his  haram,  all  he  now  or  ever  needs. 


J  t 


h  i'li 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. 

1.  The  inhabitants  of  the  north  of  Europe  and  Asia,  who 
issued  in  great  multitudes  from  their  native  forests,  during 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  of  the  Christian  sera,  and  who 
overturned  the  Roman  empire,  introduced  a  new  species  of 
government  into  the  conquered  countries,  which  is  knov/n 
by  the  name  of  the  Feudal  System.  It  is  very  remarkable, 
that  although  the  barbarians  who  framed  it,  settled  in  their 
newly  acquired  territories  at  various  times,  were  command- 
ed  by  different  leaders,  and  spoke  different  languages,  yet 
the  system  was  established,  with  little  variation,  in  every 
country  in  Europe.  This  great  uniformity  is  peculiarly 
striking,  and  has  furnished  some  writers  with  an  argument, 
that  all  these  people  sprang  originally  from  the  same  stock. 
But  the  fact  may  perhaps  with  more  probability  be  attributed 
to  the  similar  state  of  their  manners,  and  the  similar  situa- 
tion in  which  they  all  found  themselves,  on  taking  possession 
of  their  new  domain. 

2.  The  plan  of  the  feudal  constitution  waa  this  : — Every 
freeman,  or  soldier,  for  the  terms  were  at  that  period  synony- 
mous, upon  receiving  an  allotment  of  conquered  lands,  bound 
himself  to  appear  in  arms  against  the  common  enemy,  when- 
ever he  should  be  called  upon  by  his  commander.  This  mili- 
tary service  was  the  condition  upon  which  every  one  received, 
and  the  tenure  by  which  he  continued  to  possess,  his  lands ; 
and  this  obligation  was  esteemed  both  easy  and  honorable. 
The  same  service  which  a  soldier  owed  to  his  officer,  was 
due  from  an  officer  to  his  king.  The  king  obliged  those 
among  whom  he  distributed  the  conquered  lands,  to  repair 
to  his  standard,  with  a  number  of  followers,  in  proportion  to 
»■'  ■  I       ...       I  I       ■ 

Who  instituted  the  Feudal  Syitem  of  government  r*— -What  was  the 
plan  oiihia  systen-^  ? 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. 


119 


the  extent  of  their  respective  estates,  and  to  assist  him  in  alf 
his  expeditions.  Thus  a  feudal  kingdom  conveys  rather  the 
idea  of  a  military  than  a  civil  establishment  The  victorious 
army,  taking  their  posts  in  different  districts  of  a  country, 
continued  to  be  arranged  under  its  proper  officers,  and  to  be 
subject  to  martial  law. 

3.  The  principle  of  policy  upon  which  this  singular  esta- 
blishment was  founded,  was  self-defence.  The  new  settlers 
in  a  country  wished  to  protect  themselves,  not  only  against 
the  attacks  of  the  inhabitants,  whom  they  had  expelled  from 
their  possessions,  but  against  the  more  formidable  inroads  of 
fresh  invaders'.  But,  unfortunately  for  the  happiness  of 
mankind,  and  the  tranquillity  of  society,  it  was  replete  with 
many  evils.  The  powerful  vassals  of  the  crown  soon  ac- 
quired that  land  as  unalienable  property,  which  was  origi- 
nally a  grant  during  pleasure,  and  appropriated  to  themselves 
titles  of  honour,  as  well  as  places  of  trust.  In  process  of 
time,  they  obtained  the  power  of  sovereign  jurisdiction,  both 
civil  and  criminal,  within  their  own  domains;  and  they  ex- 
ercised the  privilege  of  coining  money,  and  of  carrying  on 
wars  against  their  own  private  enemies. 

4.  Barons  possessed  of  such  enormous  power  disdained 
to  consider  themselves  as  subjects;  and  the  consequence 
was,  that  a  kingdom  was  broken  into  as  many  separate  prin- 
cipalities as  it  contained  powerful  nobles.  Innumerable 
causes  of  jealousy  and  discord  subsisted  between  them,  and 
gave  rise  to  constant  wars.  Every  country  in  Europe,  either 
wasted  or  kept  in  continual  alarm  during  these  feuds,  was 
filled  with  castles  and  places  of  strength  erected  for  the  se- 
curity of  the  despotic  chieftain,  not  against  foreign  invasion, 
but  domestic  hostilities.  In  the  reign  of  Stephen  of  Eng- 
land, when  the  feudal  system  was  in  its  height,  not  less  than 
a  thousand  castles,  with  their  dependent  territories,  are  said 
to  have  covered  the  southern  part  of  the  island  of  Great  Bri- 
tain. Among  fierce  and  haughty  chieftains,  the  laws  enact- 
ed by  princes  and  magistrates  commanded  no  degree  of  re- 
spect ;  and  the  right  of  retaliation  and  revenge  was  consi- 
dered as  an  inherent  privilege  of  their  order. 

5.  In  fine,  the  estate  of  every  baron  was  an  independent 

iM^  ■  ■    III    ■     II        ——-..-I.   I  I  —■■■■—■■■       I  I.  ■■■I.  ■    ii—    -     ■  !■        ,  Mill  I  ■  — laa— ■»■»— 

What  was  the  principle  of  policy  upon  which  the  Feudal  System 
was  founded  ? — Was  it  attended  with  evils  ^ — What  were  some  of 
these  evils? 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. 


m 


m 


M 


territory  ;  his  castle  was  a  strong  and  well  garrisoned  for- 
tress, and  he  always  considered  himself  as  living  in  a  state 
of  war.  When  provoked  by  injury,  he  met  his  adversary  at 
the  head  of  his  vassals  in  hostile  array,  and  trusted  to  his 
Bword  for  the  decision  of  the  contest.  Every  man  was  the 
avenger  of  his  own  wrongs,  and  sought  the  redress  of  his 
grievances  in  single  combat,  the  regulation  and  ceremonies 
of  which  were  formed  into  a  system  of  jurisprudence.  The 
common  people,  the  most  numerous  and  most  useful  part  of 
the  community,  were  reduced  to  the  miseries  of  slavery. 
The  peasant  was  considered  as  the  mere  produce  of  the  soil, 
and  was  transferred  from  one  lord  to  another,  with  the  uten- 
sils and  cattle  of  his  farm.  The  king,  stripped  of  almost 
every  prerogative,  and  possessing  little  more  than  the  empty 
title  of  sovereign,  had  neither  power  to  protect  the  innocent, 
nor  to  punish  the  guilty.  Indeed,  a  general  anarchy,  de- 
structive of  all  the  comforts  which  men  expect  to  derive  from 
a  state  of  society,  prevailed. 

6.  To  complete  and  confirm  these  evils,  the  progress  of 
time  gradually  fixed  and  rendered  venerable  an  establish- 
ment which  originated  in  violence,  and  was  continued  with 
every  species  of  despotism  and  injustice ;  a  system  which 
was  as  hostile  to  the  intellectual  as  to  the  moral  improve- 
ment of  the  mind ;  which  banished  science  and  the  arts, 
sunk  mankind  into  gross  ignorance,  obscured  the  sacred 
light  of  Christianity  in  the  thickest  darkness  of  superstition, 
and  was  favorable  only  to  the  growth  of  those  stern  virtues 
which  are  characteristic  of  uncivilized  nations.  The  rigor 
of  tyranny  hardened  the  minds  of  the  nobles,  the  yoke  of 
vassalage  debased  the  spirit  of  the  people,  the  generous  sen- 
timents inspired  by  a  sense  of  equality  were  extinguished. 
mud  there  was  no  check  to  ferocity  and  violence.  Accord- 
H^ly  a  greater  number  of  those  atrocious  actions,  which  fill 
the  mind  with  astonishment  and  horror,  occur  in  the  history 
of  the  feudal  times  than  in  that  of  any  period  of  the  same 
extent  in  the  annals  of  Europe. 

7.  Such  was  the  deplorable  state  of  society  from  the  se- 
venth to  the  eleventh  century.  From  that  sera  may  be  dated 
theTetnm  of  government,  laws,  and  manners,  in  a  contrary 


What  was  the  continuance  of  the  deplorable  state  of  society  occa- 
sioned by  the  Feudal  Syetem ' 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. 


181 


(Arection.  We  shall  hereafter  notice  the  favorable  effects 
of  the  Crusades  and  chivalry  upon  the  feudal  system.  In 
succeeding  times,  a  variety  of  causes  began  to  operate,  which 
checked  the  licentiousness  of  the  barons,  softened  the  fero- 
city of  their  manners,  and  finally  put  a  period  to  their  domi- 
nation. The  establishment  of  standing  armies,  in  the  fif- 
teenth century,  gave  more  effectual  authority  to  kings  ;  and 
from  that  time  they  no  longer  regarded  the  nobles  as  their 
equals,  or  found  it  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  timid  coun- 
sels, or  feeble  efforts,  to  control  their  power.  They  began, 
not  only  to  wield  the  sceptre,  but  to  brandish  the  sword  ;  and 
either  cheeked  the  designs  of  their  barons  by  intimidation, 
or  punished  their  rebellion  by  force. 

8.  Charles  the  Seventh  of  France,  urged  by  his  desire  of 
expelling  the  English  from  France  in  the  year  1445,  was 
the  first  who  adopted  this  measure ;  but  as  it  was  so  repug- 
nant to  the  genius  of  the  feudal  system,  and  required  the 
greatest  boldness  to  carry  it  into  execution,  he  retained  a 
large  body  of  forces  in  his  service,  and  appointed  funds  for 
their  regular  payment.  The  principal  nobility  soon  resorted 
to  his  standard,  and  looked  up  to  him  as  the  judge  and  the 
rewarder  of  merit.  The  feudal' militia,  composed  of  men  of 
rank  and  military  talents,  who  were  only  occasionally  called 
out,  were  in  time  regarded  with  contempt,  by  soldiers  accus- 
tomed to  the  operations  of  regular  service. 

9.  The  above  example  of  breaking  the  independent  power 
of  the  barons  was  followed  by  the  politic  Henry  VIL  of 
England.  He  undermined  that  edifice,  which  it  was  not 
prudent  to  attack  with  open  force.  By  judicious  laws  he 
permitted  his  nobles  to  break  the  entail  upon  their  estates, 
and  to  expose  them  to  sale.  He  prohibited  them  from  keep- 
ing numerous  bands  of  retainers,  which  had  rendered  them 
formidable  to  his  predecessors.  By  encouraging  agriculture 
and  commerce,  and  all  the  arts  of  peace  during  a  long  reign, 
and  by  enforcing  a  vigorous  and  impartial  execution  of  the 
laws,  he  not  only  removed  many  immediate  evils  resulting 
from  the  feudal  system,  but  provided  against  their  future  re- 
turn.   The  influence  of  his  salutary  plans  was  gradually  felt, 

What  establishment  restored  to  kiiiffs  their  proper  authority  ?— At 
what  time  were  standihs  armies  intt^ucedP — What  king  of  France 
adopted  this  method  to  destroy  th«  Feudal  System  ^—What  kingf  «f 
England  followed  his  example  in  this  particular  ^ 


122 


THE  CRUSADES. 


and  they  contributed  more  and  more,  in  process  of  time,  to 
the  good  order,  prosperity,  and  general  welfare  of  his  8ul>- 
Jects. 


\fm 


m 


ii|:f 


li'  )!'*' 


THE  CRUSADES. 

1.  The  Crusades  were  expeditions  undertaken  for  the  re- 
covery of  the  Holy  Land  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Infidels  or 
Saracens.  They  derive  their  name  from  the  French  word 
croix,  cross,  which  the  adventurers  in  these  holy  wars  always 
wore  as  an  ensign  of  their  cause.  The  Crusades  began  in 
the  eleventh  century,  and  continued  about  two  hundred 
years.  They  are  important  to  the  historian,  as  involving  the 
interests  of  the  principal  nations  of  Europe,  at  that  time ; 
and  to  the  philosopher,  as  fraught  with  consequences  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  happiness  of  succeeding  genera- 
tions. They  were  also  highly  important,  if  we  consider  the 
great  numbers  who  were  engaged  in  them,  or  their  long  and 
obstmate  perseverance  in  the  same  design,  notwithstanding  an 
almost  uninterrupted  series  of  hardships,  losses,  and  defeats. 

2.  It  is  natural  to  the  human  mind,  to  view  those  places 
which  have  been  distinguished  by  being  the  residence  of  any 
illustrious  personage,  or  the  scene  of  any  great  transaction, 
with  some  degree  of  delight  and  veneration.  Hence  Judea, 
or  the  Holy  Land,  has  been  an  object  of  veneration  with 
Christians  from  the  earliest  ages  of  the  church ;  and,  in  pe- 
riods of  great  ignorance,  this  veneration  has  nearly  approach- 
ed to  idolatry.  To  visit  the  country  which  the  Almighty 
had  selected  as  the  inheritance  of  his  favorite  people,  and  in 
which  the  Son  of  God  had  accomplished  the  redemption  of 
mankind,  was  i-egarded  as  the  most  acceptable  service  that 
could  be  paid  to  heaven.  And  as  this  distinct  pilgrimage 
could  not  be  performed  without  considerable  expense,  fatigue, 
and  danger,  it  appeared  the  more  meritorious,  and  came  to 
be  considered  as  an  expiation  for  almost  every  crime. 

Z.  An  opinion  which  spread  with  rapidity  over  Europe 


What  ware  the  Crusaded  ? — From  what  did  they  derive  their  nftme  f 
At  what  time  did  they  commence,  and  how  long  did  they  continue  P 
—Why  have  Chriitians  been  m  the  habit  of  visiting  Judea,  or  the 
Holy  Land  ? 


THE  CRUSADES. 


IttU 


le,  to 


he  re- 
lels  or 

word 
ilways 
gan  m 
indred 
ngthe 

time ; 
!S  inti- 
renera- 
ler  the 
tng  and 
iing  an 
defeats. 
\  places 
3  of  any 
saction, 

Judea, 
sn  with 
1,  in  pe- 
>proach- 
Imighty 

and  in 
ption  of 
rice  that 
grimage 
,  fatigue, 

came  to 

I. 
Europt* 

eir  nnme  f 
continue  ? 
e%,  or  the 


about  the  close  of  the  tenth  and  beginning  of  the  eleventii 
century,  and  which  gained  universal  credit,  wonderfully  aug- 
mented the  number  of  credulous  pilgrims,  and  increased  the 
ardor  with  which  they  undertook  this  perilous  voyage.  The 
thousand  years  mentioned  by  St.  John  were  supposed  to  be 
accomplished,  and  the  end  of  the  world  to  be  at  hand.  A 
general  consternation  seized  mankind ;  many  relinquished 
their  possessions  ;  and  abandoning  their  friends  and  families, 
hurried  with  precipitation  to  the  Holy  Land,  where  they  ima- 
gired  that  Christ  would  quickly  appear  to  judge  the  world. 
But  the  pilgrims  were  exposed  to  outrages  of  every  kind  from 
the  infidel  Saracens ;  and,  on  their  return  from  Palestine, 
they  related  the  dangers  which  they  had  encountered,  and 
described  with  exaggeration  the  cruelty  and  vexations  to 
which  they  had  been  subjected. 

4.  When  the  minds  of  men  were  thus  prepared,  the  zeal 
of  a  fanatic  monk,  who  conceived  the  idea  of  leading  all  the 
forces  of  Christendom  against  the  infidels,  and  of  driving 
them  out  of  the  Holy  Land  by  violence,  was  sufficient  to  giva 
a  beginning  to  that  wild  enterprise.  Peter  the  Hermit,  for 
that  was  the  name  of  this  martial  apostle,  ran  from  province 
to  province  with  a  crucifix  in  his  hand,  exciting  princes  and 
people  to  this  Holy  War ;  and  wherever  he  came,  kindled 
the  same  enthusiastic  ardor  for  it  with  which  he  himself  was 
animated.  Others  likewise  engaged  in  this  same  enterprise. 
Some  of  them  went  clad  in  sackcloth,  with  their  heads  and 
feet  bare.  They  flew  from  kingdom  to  kingdom  with  in* 
credible  speed,  promising  to  each  soldier  of  the  cross,  at 
I'dast,  the  eternal  blessing  of  heaven,  and  threatening  such 
as  remained  inactive  with  the  endless  wrath  of  an  offended 
Deity. 

5.  Their  success  was  beyond  calculation.  Persons  of  all 
ranks  catched  the  contagion,  and  enlisted  under  the  banners 
of  the  cross.  The  (lame  spread,  and  continuec  to  burn,  from 
the  shores  of  the  Baltic  lO  the  straits  of  Gibru.' ",  and  from 
the  banks  of  the  Daimbe  to  the  bay  of  Biscay.    In  all  places 

What  circumstance  increased  the  number  of  pilgrimages  to  the 
Holy  Land  about  the  close  of  the  10th  and  the  bisginninff  of  the  11th 
century  ? — What  treatment  did  Christians  receive  in  their  pilgrinv 
ages  ? — Who  actively  engaged  in  exciting  Obriistians,  at  this  time,. to 
avenge  the  injuries  they  received  ? — Was  Foter  sucoessiUl  in  eQliit* 
ing  perions  to  go  against  the  Infidelv  ? 


124 


THE  CRUSADES. 


the  martial  trumpet  was  heard,  and  warlike  preparations  were 
seen.  Immense  swarms  of  people  thronged  from  all  quar- 
ters to  places  of  geneial  rendezvous,  whence,  in  still  larger 
bodies,  they  rolled  like  mighty  torrents  into  Asia.  If  we 
may  believe  the  concurring  testimony  of  contemporary  writ- 
ers, six  millions  of  persons  actually  devoted  themselves  to 
this  holy  warfare ;  and  so  completely  were  the  nations  of 
Europe  agitated  and  carried  away  by  this  general  and  pow- 
erful passion,  that  to  make,  preserve,  and  recover  acquisitions 
in  Judea  and  its  neighborhood,  was  the  giand  and  favorite 
object  for  two  centuries. 

6.  The  first  efforts  of  valor,  animated  by  enthusiasm,  were 
irresistible ;  part  of  Lesser  Asia,  all  Syria,  and  Palestine, 
were  wrested  from  the  infidels  ;  the  banner  of  the  cross  was 
displayed  on  Mount  Zion  ;  Constantinople,  the  capital  of  the 
Christian  empire,  in  the  East,  was  afterwards  seized  by  a 
body  of  those  adventurers,  v/ho  had  taken  arms  against  the 
Mahometans ;  and  an  Earle  of  FlandeYs,  and  his  descend- 
ants, kept  possession  of  the  imperial  throne  during  half  a 
century.  But  though  the  first  impression  of  the  Crusaders 
was  so  unexpected  that  they  made  their  conquests  with  great 
ease,  they  found  infinite  difficulty  in  preserving  them.  Es- 
tablishments so  distant  from  Europe,  surrounded  by  warlike 
nations,  animated  with  fanatical  zeal  scarcely  inferior  to  that 
of  the  Crusaders  themselves,  were  perpetually  in  danger  of 
being  overturned.  Before  the  expiration  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  the  Christians  were  driven  out  of  all  their  Asiatic 
possessions,  in  the  acquisition  of  which  immense  syms  of 
money  had  been  expended,  and  not  less  than  two  millionfl 
of  men  had  perished. 

7.  But  however  vain  and  extravagant  the  Crusades  were,  they 
were  productive  of  lasting  good  to  mankind.  The  general  union 
of  all  Europe  in  one  common  cause,  although  a  wild  religious 
frenzy  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  prevented  many  wars,  hush- 
ed many  commotions,  and  caused  numberless  animosities  to 


How  many  pergons  are  said  to  have  «nlisted  in  the  Crusades  ?— 
What  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  Crusades  in  their  first  expedi- 
tions ? — ^What  prevented  their  maintaining  the  advantage  which  they 
had  thus  obtainea  over  the  Saracens  ? — How  many  persons  are  said 
to  have  lost  their  lives  in  them  ? — ^Why  did  the  Crusades  serve  to 
produce  refinement  of  manners,  improvements  in  the  arts,  and  ei* 
tension  of  coumierce  ?  , 


THE  CRUSADES. 


125 


be  forgotten — the  inhabitants  of  different  countries  became 
acquainted  with  each  other  ?  and  especially,  when  they  met 
in  the  remote  regions  of  Asia,  they  looked  upon  each  other 
as  brethren  engaged  in  one  grand  cause,  where  life,  honor, 
and  giory^  were  all  at  stake.  The  Crusades  may  in  fact 
be  regarded  as  the  commencement  of  that  intercourse  among 
the  people  of  Europe  which  has  been  ever  since  increasing, 
and  which  cannot  fail  to  assimilate  and  polish  their  manners. 

8.  Rude  and  ignorant  as  tl\e  Crusaders  were,  they  could 
not  travel  through  and  continue  in  so  many  interesting  coun- 
tries with  indifference ;  or  behold  their  various  customs  and 
institutions,  without  acquiring  information  and  improvement 
Among  the  Greeks,  they  surveyed  the  productions  of  the  fine 
arts,  and  the  precious  remains  of  antiquity,  the  magnificence 
of  the  eastern  courts,  and  the  models  of  extensive  and  curious 
manufactories.  In  Asia,  they  beheld  the  traces  of  knowledge 
and  arts,  which  the  patronage  of  the  caliphs  had  diffused 
through  theii  empire.  Every  object  which  struck  their  at- 
tention, pointed  out  a  far  higher  state  of  improvement  than 
their  own  countries  had  reached ;  every  object,  therefore,  while 
it  excited  the  wonder  of  them  all,  could  not  fail  to  excite  a 
spirit  of  imitation  among  those  who  are  active  and  ingeni« 
ous.  As  these  new  scenes  presented  themselves,  their  eyes 
were  gradually  opened  to  a  more  extensive  prospect  of  the 
world,  and  they  acquired  new  modes  of  thinking,  felt  a  sense 
of  new  wants,  and  a  taste  for  new  gratifications* 

9.  In  the  superior  intelligence  and  refinements  of  Cairo 
and  Constantinople,  they  discovered  various  commodities 
worth  importing  into  Europe.  From  this  period  is  dated  the 
intri  duoiion  of  silk  and  sugar,  which  were  conveyed  into 
lialy  fom  Greece  and  Egypt ;  and  the  advantages  which  re- 
Siikevl  from  a  more  enlarged  and  adventurous  trafiic  to  the 
Pisans,  th"  <ib:?oese,  and  Venetians,  who  laid  the  foundation 
of  the  modern  cou;meroial  system.  The  Crusaders  began 
that  intercourse  with  the  East  which,  under  the  pacific  forms 
of  commerce,  has  continued  with  little  interruption  ever 
since.  On  their  return  to  Europe,  they  introduced  a  new 
taste  in  buildings,  a  more  superb  display  of  magnificence  on 

'  tbHc  occasions,  the  rich  manufactures  of  Asia,  together. 
V.  th  V.  more  romantic  spirit  of  enterprise,  and  th3  first  im 
pr  ^'i  \ieiits  in  learning  and  science. 

10.  The  most  beneficial  effects  of  the  Crasades  wnt  viii- 

12  • 


f2G 


CHIVALRY. 


ft' '3 


ble  in  the  alteration  which  they  occasioned  in  the  state  of 
property,  by  the  e9iancipation  of  vassals  from  the  tyranny  of 
their  lords,  and  by  increasing  the  growing  independence  of 
the  feudal  tenants.  Many  of  the  great  barons,  nnable  to 
support  the  expenses  incurred  by  their  expeditions  to  Pales 
tine,  sold  their  hereditary  possessions.  The  monarchs  of 
different  countries  took  advantage  of  these  opportunities  of 
annexing  considerable  territories  to  their  dominions,  and 
purchased  them  at  a  small  expense.  The  fiefs,  likewise,  of 
those  barons  who  died  in  the  holy  wars  without  heirs,  re- 
verted to  their  respective  sovereigns ;  and  by  these  posses- 
sions being  taken  from  one  scale  and  thrown  into  the  other, 
the  regal  power  increased  in  proportion  as  that  of  the  nobili- 
ty decUned. 


>««r^ 


a'/.'!!  It 


IVALRY 


1.  GHiVALRr  arose*  naturally  from  the  condition  of  society 
m  those  ages  in  which  it  prevailed.  Among  the  Germanic 
nations,  the  profession  of  arms  was  esteemed  the  sole  em- 
ployment that  deserved  the  name  of  manly  or  honorable. 
The  initiatioii  of  the  youth  to  this  profession  was  attended 
with  peculiar  solemnity  and  appropriate  ceremonies.  The 
chief  of  the  tribe  bestowed  the  sword  and  armor  on  his  .vas- 
sals, as  a  symbol  of  their  devotion  to  his  service.  In  the 
progress  of  the  feudal  system,  these  vassals,  in.  imitation  of 
their  chief,  assumed  the  power  of  conferring  arms  on  their 
sub-vassals,  with  a  similar  form  of  mysterious  and  pompous 
ceremony.  • 

2.  The  candidate  for  this  distinction,  accompanied  by  his 
sponsors  and  his  priests>,  passed  the  night  previous  to  his  ini- 
tiation in  watching  his  arms,  and  in  the  duty  of  prayer.  The 
next  morning  he  repaired  to  the  bath,  the  water  of  which 
was  intended  to  serve  as  an  emblem  of  the  purity  of  his  pro- 
fession. He  then  walked  to  the  nearest  church,  clothed  in 
white  garments,  and  presented  his  sword  to  the  minister  offi- 
ciating at  the  altar,  who  returned  it  to  him  with  his  benedic- 


How  did  they  tend  to  produce  a  beUer  distribution  of  power,  by 
altering  the  condition  of  property  ? — With  what  ceremony  were  per 
sons  aunitted  to  knig^hthood  ? 


CHIVALRY. 


127 


ate  of 
my  of 
nee  of 
ible  to 
Pales 
•chs  of 
ities  of 
LS,  and 
irise,  of 
jirs,  re- 
posses- 
e  other, 
)  nobili- 


f  society 
fermanic 
sole  em- 
anorable. 
attended 
3S.    The 
I  his  vas- 
In  the 
tation  of 
i  on  their 
pompous 

ed  by  his 
to  his  ini- 
er.  The 
of  which 
f  his  pro- 
clothed  in 
mister  ofi* 
benedio- 

r  power,  by 
y  were  p« 


tion.  After  taking  the  accustomed  oaths  to  his  sovereign,  or 
feudal  chief,  he  was  invested  by  the  attendant  knights  and 
ladies  with  the  various  parts  of  his  armor.  The  sovereign 
then  rising  from  the  throne,  conferred  upon  him,  while  kneel- 
ing, the  honor  of  knighthood,  by  giving  him  three  strokes 
with  the  flat  part  of  a  drawn  sword  upon  his  shoulders  or 
neck.  He  then  saluted  the  young  warrior,  and  pronounced 
these  words — "  In  the  name  of  God,  of  St.  Michael,  and  St, 
George,  I  make  thee  a  knight — be  brave,  bold,  and  loyal." 

3.  Chivalry,  though  considered,  commonly,  as  a  wild  insti- 
tution, the  effect  of  caprice,  and  the  source  of  extravagance, 
certainly  had  a  very  serious  influence  in  refining  the  man- 
ners of  European  nations.  The  feudal  state  was  a  state  of 
almost  perpetual  war,  rapine,  and  anarchy ;  during  which, 
the  weak  amd  unarmed  were  exposed  to  insults  or  injuries. 
The  power  of  the  sovereign  was  too  limited  to  prevent  these 
wrongs,  and  the  administration  of  justice  too  feeble  to  redress 
them.  The  most  effectual  protection  against  violence  and 
oppression  was  oflen  found  to  be  that  which  the  valor  and 
generosity  of  private  persons  afforded.  The  same  spirit  of 
enterprise  which  had  prompted  so  many  gentlemen  to  take 
up  arms  in  defence  of  the  oppressed  pilgrims  in  Palestine, 
incited  others  to  declare  themselves  the  patrons  and  avengers 
of  injured  innocence  at  home. 

4.  When,  too,  the  final  reduction  of  the  Holy  Land  under 
the  dominion  of  infidels  put  an  end  to  these  foreign  expedi- 
tions, the  latter  was  the  only  employment  left  for  the  activity 
and  courage  of  adventurers.  To  check  the  insolence  of 
overgrown  oppressors ;  to  rescue  the  helpless  from  captivity ; 
to  protect,  or  to  avenge  women,  orphans,  or  ecclesiastics, 
who  could  not  bear  arms  in  their  own  defence  ;  to  redress 
wrongs,  and  to  remove  grievances,  were  deemed  acts  of  the 
highest  prowess  and  merit.  Valor,  humanity,  courage,  jus- 
tice, honor,  were  the  characteristic  qualities  of  chivalry.  To 
these  was  added  religion,  which  mingled  itself  with  every 
passion  and  institution  during  the  middle  ages,  and  by  infus- 
ing a  large  portion  of  enthusiastic  zeal,  gave  them  such 
force  as  carried  them  to  romantic  excess. 

5.  This  singular  institution,  in  which  valor,  gallantry,  and 


Fow  has  the 
What  were  the 


institution  of  chivalry  commonly  been  considered  ?«- 
shaxactcristic  qualities  of  '■hivalry  ' 


128 


CHIVALRT. 


pvf 


religion,  were  so  etraugaiy  blended,  was  wonderfully  adapted 
to  the  taste  and  genius  of  martial  nobles ;  and  its  eflEects 
were  soon  visible  in  their  manners.  War  was  carried  on 
with  less  ferocity,  when  humanity  came  to  be  deemed  the  orna- 
ment of  knighthood,  no  less  than  courage.  More  gentle  and 
polished  manners  were  introduced,  when  courtesy  was  re- 
commended as  the  most  amiable  of  knightly  virtues.  Vio- 
lence and  oppression  decreased,  when  it  was  reckoned  meri- 
torious to  check  and  punish  them.  A  scrupulous  adherence 
to  truth,  with  the  most  religious  attention  to  fulfil  every  en- 
gagement, became  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  a 
gentleman,  because  chivalry  was  regarded  as  the  school  of 
honor,  and  inculcated  the  most  delicate  sensibility  With  re- 
gard to  these  points.  The  admiration  of  these  qualities,  to- 
gether with  the  high  distinctions  and  prerogatives  conferred 
on  knighthood  in  every  part  of  Europe,  inspired  persons  of 
noble  birth,  on  some  occasions,  with  a  species  of  military  fa- 
naticism, and  led  them  to  the  most  extravagant  enterprises. 

6.  But  even  in  these  enterprises,  they  deeply  imprinted  on 
their  minds  the  principles  of  generosity  and  honor.  <  These 
principles  too  wf  r  strengthened  by  every  consideration  that 
can  affect  the  seiisua  or  touch  the  heart.  The  wild  exploits 
of  those  romantic  knights,  who  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  ad- 
ventures, are  well  known,  and  have  been  treated  with  proper 
ridicule ;  but  it  is  a  fact,  that  the  political  and  permanent 
effects  of  the  spirit  of  chivalry  have  been  less  observed. 
Perhaps  the  humanity  which  accompanies  all  the  operations 
of  war,  the  refinements  of  gallantry,  and  the  point  of  honor, 
the  three  chief  circumstances  which  distinguish  modern  from 
ancient  manners,  may  be  ascribed  in  a  great  measure  to  this 
institution,  which  has  appeared  whimsicc^  to  superficial  ob- 
servers, but  by  its  effects  has  proved  of  great  benefit  U) 
mankind. 

7.  The  sentiments  which  chivalry  inspired  had  a  wonder- 
ful influence  on  manners  and  conduct,  during  the  twelfth, 
thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  centuries.  They  were 
so  deeply  rooted  that  they  continued  to  operate  after  the 
vigor  p^  a  reputation  of  the  institution  itself  began  to  decline. 

What  effect  did  chivalry  have  on  war  ? — Has  chivalry  given  rise 
to  great  extravagances  ? — Have  these  extravagances  received  the 
ridicule  which  they  justly  deserve  ? — Have  the  advantages  of  cbival* 
wy  been  as  much  known  as  its  extravagances  r 


CHIVALRY. 


ISO 


adapted 
;  effects 
rried  on 
he  orna- 
ntle  and 
was  re- 
s.     Vio- 
bd  meri- 
Iherence 
jvery  en- 
itic  of  a 
school  of 
With  re-    , 
lities,  to- 
conferred 
ersons  of 
ilitary  fa- 
rprises. 
jrinted  on 
'.  <  These 
ation  that 
d  exploits 
est  of  ad- 
ith  proper 
(ermaneni 
observed. 
»perations 
of  honor, 
idem  from 
ure  to  this 
Irficial  ol> 
Ibenefit  io 

la  wonder- 

\e  twelfth, 

^hey  were 

after  the 

|to  decline. 

given  rise 
.aceived  the 
Lb  of  chival- 


Some  considerable  transactions  recorded  in  history  reseniible 
the  adventurous  exploits  of  chivalry,  rather  than  the  well  regu- 
lated operations  of  sound  policy.  Some  of  the  most  eminent 
personages  whose  characters  are  therein  delineated  were 
strongly  tinctured  with  this  romantic  spirit.  Francis  I.  was 
ambitious  to  distinguish  himself  by  all  the  qualities  of  an 
accomplished  knight,  and  endeavored  to  imitate  the  enter- 
prising genius  of  chivalry  in  war,  as  well  as  it?  pomp  and 
courtesy  during  peace.  The  fame  which  the  l«'rench  mo- 
narch acquired  by  these  splendid  actions,  so  far  dazzled  hie 
more  temperate  rival,  that  he  departed,  on  some  occasions, 
from  his  usual  prudence  and  moderation,  and  emulated. 
Francis  in  deeds  of  prowess,  or  of  gallantry. 

8.  Important  and  numerous  were  the  privileges  attached 
to  this  profession  of  arms,  and  its  duties  were  at  once  ardent 
and  indispensable.  To  protect  the  ladies  was  an  essential 
part  of  them.  Incapable  of  taking  arms  for  the  preservation 
of  their  property,  and  destitute  of  the  means  to  prove  the 
purity  of  their  characters,  if  attacked  by  malevolence  or 
slander,  they  woidd  frequently,  in  those  uncivilized  times, 
when  law  and  justice  were  silenced  by  violence  and  force, 
have  seen  their  lands  become  a  prey  to  some  tyrannical  neigh-^ 
bor,  or  had  their  reputation  blasted  by  the  breath  of  calumny, 
if  some  knight  had  not  come  forward  in  their  defence.  To 
the  succor  of  the  distressed,  the  protection  of  orphans,  the 
emancipation  of  captives,  and  the  chastisement  of  oppression, 
he  likewise  dedicated  his  sword,  and  his  life.  If  he  faUed 
in  a  scrupulous  attention  to  these  benevolent  offices,  he  was 
looked  upon  as  deserting  the  most  solemn  obligations,  and 
was  degraded  from  his  rank  with  public  marks  of  disgrace. 
If  he  performed  them  with  activity  and  spirit,  he  was  regard- 
ed as  an  honor  to  his  profession,  and  his  renown  was  spread 
over  every  part  of  Europe. 

9.  The  treatment  of  women  in  Greece  and  Rome  was 
harsh  and  degrading.  They  were  confined  to  a  state  of  se- 
clusion from  the  world,  had  but  few  attentions  paid  them,  and 
were  allowed  to  take  little  share  in  the  general  intercourse 
of  life.  The  northern  nations,  on  the  contrary,  paid  a  kind 
of  religious  veneration  to  the  female  sex,  considered  them  as 

What  may  be  considered  the  most  important  duties  of  chivalry  / 
(See  sec.  8.)-'-What  was  the  treatment  of  women  in  Crreeee  mmI 
Rome? 


130 


CHIVALRY* 


i  >: '  k: 


I  *Pi 


M'^i 


•indowed  with  superior,  and  even  divine  qualities,  gave  them  s 
seat  in  their  public  councils,  and  followed  their  standard  to  bat- 
tle. These  fierce  barbarians,  in  the  course  of  their  ravages 
in  the  Roman  empire,  when  they  involved  the  monuments 
of  ancient  art  in  destruction,  and  pursued  their  enemies  in 
arms  with  the  most  bloody  severity,  always  forbore  to  offer 
violence  to  women.  They  introduced  into  the  west  of  Eu 
rope  the  respectful  gallantry  of  the  north  ;  and  this  benevo 
fence  of  sentiment  was  <cheri6hed  an<i  matureJ  by  the  insti- 
tution of  chivalry. 

10.  Thus  has  a  great  change  of  manners  been  effected  by 
following  up  a  leading  principle  of  the  institution  of  chivalry, 
and  giving  a  conspicuous  place  to  the  female  sex  in  the  ranks 
of  society.  The  passion  of  love,  purified  by  delicacy,  has 
been  heightened  by  the  pleasures  of  sentiment  and  imagina- 
tion ;  the  sphere  of  conversation  has  been  enlarged  and  me- 
liorated ;  it  has  gained  more  propriety,  more  vivacity,  more 
wit,  and  more  vanity ;  social  intercourse  has  been  divested 
of  formality,  and  is  regulated  by  the  laws  of  true  politeness. 
It  has  opened  new  sources  of  satisfaction  to  the  understand- 
ing, and  afforded  new  delights  to  the  heart.  The  merit  of  the 
^exes  has  been  raised,  they  having  a  better  title  to  the  esteem 
of  each  other  ;  the  characters  both  of  men  and  women  have 
been  marked  by  more  amiable  qualities,  and  the  stock  of  re- 
fined pleasures  and  social  happiness  has  been  considerably 
increased. 

11.  A  knight  was  always  known  by  a  device  on  his  shield, 
and  the  peculiarities  of  his  blazonry,  which  were  allusive  to 
some  of  his  martial  exploits.  Qreat  honors  were  paid  to  him 
after  his  decease,  particularly  if  he  was  slain  in  battle.  His 
funeral  was  most  solemn,  and  fully  attended.  His  sword, 
helmet,  spurs,  gauntlets,  and  armorial  ensigns,  were  sus- 
pended over  the  hallowed  spot  of  his  interment,  or  his  ce- 
notaph. His  splendid  tomb,  graced  with  his  effigy,  and 
marked  with  a  suitable  inscription,  was  considered  as  a  tri- 
bute of  the  justest  respect  to  his  virtues,  and  as  a  powerful 
incentive  to  inflame  the  youthful  warrior  to  tread  the  same 
path  of  valor  and  renown. 

12.  The  following;  among  many  other  anecdotes,  have  been 


What  treatment  were  they  accustomed  to  receive  among 
•erthern  nations  ? — How  was  a  knight  always  to  be  known  ' 


the 


CHIVALRY 


131 


;  them  8 

d  to  bat- 
ravages 

numenta 

emies  in 

3  to  oifer 

5t  of  Eu 
benevo 

the  msti- 

Tected  by 
'  chivalry, 
the  ranks 
cacy,  has 
[  iraagina- 
i  and  me- 
city,  more 
1  divested 
politeness, 
nderstand- 
nerit  of  the 
the  esteem 
omen  have 
ock  of  re- 
)nsiderably 

his  shield, 
allusive  to 
>aid  to  him 
[attle.    His 
[is  sword, 
were  sus- 
or  his  ce- 
[effigy,  and 
led  as  a  tri- 
a  powerful 
tlie  same 


related,  as  specimeife  of  the  influence  of  chivalry  in  thos(! 
rude  ages.  Edward,  the  black  prince,  was  accomplished, 
valiant,  and  amiable.  Soon  after  the  battle  of  Poicticrs, 
in  1356,  he  landed  at  Southwark,  and  was  met  by  a  greai 
concourse  of  people,  of  all  ranks  and  stations.  His  prison- 
er, John,  king  of  France,  was  clad  in  r'^yal  apparel,  and 
mounted  on  a  white  steed,  distinguished  by  its  size  and 
beauty,  and  by  the  richness  of  its  furniture.  The  conqueroi 
rode  by  his  side,  in  meaner  attire,  and  carried  by  a  black 
palfry.  In  this  situation,  more  honorable  than  all  the  inso- 
lent parade  of  a  Roman  triumph,  he  passed  through  the 
streets  of  London,  and  presented  the  king  of  France  to  his 
ffither,  who  received  him  with  the  same  courtesy  as  if  he  had 
l>een  a  neighboring  potentate  that  had  voluntarily  come  to 
pay  him  a  friendly  visit.  It  is  impossible,  on  reflecting  on 
this  noble  conduct,  not  to  perceive  the  advantages  which  re- 
sulted from  the  otherwise  whimsical  principles  of  chivalry, 
and  which  gave,  even  in  those  rude  times,  some  superiority 
even  over  people  of  a  more  cultivated  age  and  nation. 

13.  The  chevalier  Bayard  was  quartered,  one  winter,  at 
Grenoble,  near  a  young  lady  of  good  family,  but  of  indigent 
circumstances ;  her  beauty  inflamed  his  love,  and  her  situa- 
tion gave  him  hopes  of  being  able  to  gratify  it.  Her  mother, 
ufged  by  poverty,  accepted  his  proposals,  and  compelled  her 
reluctant  daughter  to  visit  him.  As  soon  as  she  was  intro- 
duced into  his  presence,  she  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and 
with  streaming  eyes  besought  him  not  to  dishonor  an  unfor- 
tunate damsel,  whom  it  was  more  consistent  with  a  person 
of  his  virtuous  character  to  protect.  '*  Rise,''  exclaimed  the 
chevalier,  "  you  shall  quit  this  place  as  innocent  as  you  enter- 
ed it,  but  more  fortunate."  He  instantly  conducted  her 
home,  reproved  the  mother,  and  gave  the  daughter  a  marriage 
portion  of  600  pistoles. 

What  anecdote  is  related  of  Edward  the  black  prince,  to  illustrate 
the  advantages  of  chivalry  ? — What  one  is  related  of  the  chevalier 
Bayard  ? 


have  been 

among  tht 
Iwn' 


133 


THE  REFORMATION. 


THE  REFORMATlbN. 

1.  It  was  from  causes  seemingly  fortuitous,  and  from  a 
source  very  inconsiderable,  that  all  the  mighty  effects  of  the 
reformation  flowed.  Leo  X.,  when  raised  to  the  papal  throne, 
found  the  revenues  of  the  church  exhausted  by  the  vast  pro- 
jects  of  his  two  ambitious  predecessors,  Alexander  VI.  and 
Julius  II.  His  own  temper,  naturally  liberal  and  enterprise 
ing,  rendered  him  incapable  of  that  severe  and  patient  ecqno- 
my  which  the  situation  of  his  finances  required.  On  the 
contrary,  his  schemes  for  aggrandizing  the  family  of  Medici, 
his  love  of  splendor,  his  taste  for  pleasure,  and  his  magnifi- 
cence in  rewarding  men  of  genius,  involved  him  daily  in 
new  expenses ;  in  order  to  provide  a  fund  for  which,  he  tried 
every  device,  that  the  fertile  invention  of  priests  had  fallen 
on,  to  drain  the  credulous  multitude  of  their  wealth.  Among 
others,  he  had  recourse  to  a  sale  of  Indulgences. 

2.  According  to  the  doctrine  of  the  church  of  Rome,  all  the 
good  works  of  the  saints,  over  and  above  those  which  are  ne- 
cessary towards  their  own  justification,  are  deposited,  together 
with  the  infinite  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  in  one  inexhaustible 
treasury.  The  keys  of  this  were  committed  to  St.  Peter, 
and  to  his  successors  the  popes,  who  open  it  at  pleasure,  and 
by  transferring  a  portion  of  this  superabundant  merit  to 
any  particular  person,  for  a  sum  of  money,  may  convey  to 
him,  either  the  pardon  of  his  own  sins,  or  release,  for  any 
one  in  whose  happiness  he  is  interested,  from  the  pains 
of  purgatory.  Such  indulgences  were  first  invented  in  the 
eleventh  century,  by  Urban  II.  as  a  recompense  for  those, 
who  went  in  person  upon  the  meritorious  enterprise  of  con- 
quering the  Holy  Land.  They  were  afterwards  granted  to 
those  who  hired  a  soldier  for  that  purpose ;  and,  in  process 
of  time,  were  bestowed  on  such  as  gave  money  for  accom- 
plishing any  pious  work,  enjoined  by  the  pope.  Julius  II. 
had  bestowed  indulgences  on  all  who  contributed  towards 
building  the  church  of  St.  Peter  at  Rome  ;  and  as  Leo  was 
carrying  on  that  magnificent  and  expensive  fabric,  his  grant 
was  founded  on  the  same  pretence. 

—  ■     !■     ■       ■■      ■       II     .1    I.-  ■        .  I  ,1  ■         ■!!  ■  I  ■  ■■■         ■  ■■!  ■  H»  I 

What  method  did  Leo  X.  adopt  to  replenish  his  exhausted  treasu- 
ry?— ^Whenwere  the  Indulgences  first  invented,  and  by  whom?— 
Who  was  the  principal  person  employed  in  disposing  of  indulgencei 
in  Saxony  ? 


THE  REFORMATION. 


133 


sin  a 

r  the 
rone, 

pro- 
.  and 
rpris- 
cqno- 
a  the 
edici, 
Lgnifi- 
ily  in 
5  tried 

fallen 
imong 

all  the 
ire  ne- 
►gether 
lUStible 
I  Peter, 
:e,  and 
erit  to 
ivey  to 
or  any 
J  pains 
in  the 
those. 
»f  con- 
Inted  to 
>rocess 
jaccom- 
llius  II. 
towards 
,eo  was 
iS  grant 


treaso- 

^hom  ?— 
ilgencet 


3.  Tetzel,  a  Dominican  Friar,  of  licentious  morals,  but  of 
an  active  spirit,  was  the  principal  person  employed  in  retail- 
ing these  indulgences  in  Saxony.  He,  assisted  by  the  monks 
of  his  order,  executed  the  commission  with  zeal  and  suc< 
cess,  but  with  little  discretion  and  decency  ;  and  though  by 
magnifying  excessively  the  benefit  of  their  indulgences,  and 
by  disposing  of  them  at  a  very  low  price,  they  carried  on,  for 
some  time,  an  extensive  and  lucrative  traffic  among  the  cre- 
dulous and  the  ignorant,  the  extravagance  of  the  assertions, 
as  well  as  the  irregularities  in  their  conduct,  came  at  last  to 
give  general  offence.  The  princes  and  nobles  were  irritated 
at  seeing  their  vassals  drained  of  so  much  wealth,  in  order  to 
replenish  the  treasury  of  a  profuse  pontiff.  Men  of  piety 
regretted  the  delusion  of  the  people,  who,  being  taught  to 
rely  for  the  pardon  of  their  sins  on  the  indulgences  which 
they  purchased,  did  not  think  it  incumboM  on  them  either 
to  study  the  doctrines  taught  by  genuine  Christianity,  or  to 
practise  the  duties  which  it  enjoins.  Even  the  most  unthink- 
ing were  shocked  at  the  scandalous  behavior  of  Tetzel  and 
his  associates,  who  often  squandered  in  drunkenness,  gam- 
ing, and  low  debauchery,  those  sums  which  were  piously  be- 
stowed in  hopes  of  obtaining  eternal  happiness  ;  and  all  began 
to  wish  that  some  check  were  given  to  this  commerce,  no 
less  detrimental  to  society  than  destructive  to  religion. 

4.  Such  was  the  favourable  juncture,  and  so  disposed  were 
the  minds  of  his  countrymen  to  listen  to  his  discourses,  when 
Martin  Luther  first  began  to  call  in  question  the  efficacy  of 
indulgences,  and  to  declaim  against  the  vicious  lives  and 
false  doctrines  of  the  persons  employed  in  promulgating 
them.  He  soon  acquired  great  reputation,  not  only  for  hi» 
piety,  but  for  his  love  of  knowledge,  and  his  unwearied  ap- 
plication to  study.  The  great  progress  he  made  in  his  study 
of  the  Scriptures,  augmented  so  much  the  fame  both  of  his 
sanctity  and  hi$  learning,  that  Frederic,  elect/)r  of  Saxoi^y, 
having  founded  an  university  at  Wittember|^,  on  the  E)^u, 
the  place  of  his  residence,  Luther  was  choflen  first  to  te^i  >i« 
philosophy,  and  afterwards  theology  tht)re ;  and  discharged 
both  offices  in  such  a  manner  that  he  was  deemed  the  chief 
ornament  of  that  society. 


Who  was  the  particular  friend  and  patron  of  Martin  Luther  ? 

13 


134 


THE  REFORMATION. 


5. 


>    '&A:: 


^<y'' 


I"'    .    !■)! 


tl/4 


And  from  the  pulpit,  in  the  great  churc}i  at  Wittem- 
berg,  he  inveighed  against  the  irregularities  and  vices  of  the 
monks  who  published  indulgences ;  he  ventured  to  examine 
he  doctrines  which  they  taught,  and  pointed  out  to  the  peo- 
i)le  the  danger  of  relying  for  salvation  upon  any  other  means 
than  those  appointed  by  God  in  his  word.  The  boldness  and 
novelty  of  these  opinions  drew  great  attention,  and  being  re- 
commended by  the  authority  of  Luther's  personal  character, 
and  delivered  with  a  popular  and  persuasive  eloquence,  they 
made  a  deep  impression  on  the  minds  of  his  hearers.  Mean- 
while these  novelties  in  Luther's  doctrines,  which  interested 
all  Germany,  excited  little  attention  and  no  alarm  in  the  court 
of  Rome.  Leo,  fond  of  elegant  and  refined  pleasures,  in- 
lent  upon  great  schemes  of  policy,  a  stranger  to  theological 
controversies,  and  apt  to  despise  them,  regarded  with  the  ut- 
most indifference  the  operations  of  an  obscure  friar,  who,  in 
the  heart  of  Germany,  carried  on  a  scholastic  disputation  in 
a  barbarous  style.  Little  did  he  apprehend,  or  Luther  him- 
self dream,  that  the  effects  of  this  quarrel  would  be  so  fatal 
to  the  papal  see. 

G.  The  solicitations,  however,  of  Luther's  adversaries,  who 
were  exasperated  to  a  higk  degree  by  the  boldness  with 
which  he  animadverted  on  their  writings,  together  with  the 
surprising  progress  which  his  opinions  made  in  different  parts 
of  Germany,  roused  at  last  the  attention  of  the  court  of 
Rome,  and  obliged  Leo  to  take  measures  for  the  security  of 
the  church  against  an  attack  that  now  appeared  too  serious 
to  be  despised.  For  this  end,  he  summoned  Luther  to  ap- 
pear at  Rome,  within  sixty  days,  before  the  auditor  of  the 
chamber,  and  the  inquisitor-general,  Prierias,  whom  he  em- 
IK)wered  jointly  to  examine  his  doctrines,  and  to  decide  con- 
cerning them.  He  wrote,  ai  the  same  time,  to  the  elector  of 
Saxony,  beseeching  him  not  to  protect  a  man  whose  heretical 
and  profane  tenets  were  so  shocking  to  pious  ears ;  and  en- 
joined the  provincial  of  the  Augustinians  to  check,  by  his 
authority,  the  rashness  of  an  arrogant  monk,  which  brought 
dia^race  upon  the  order  of  St.  Augustine,  and  gave  offence 
and  disturbance  to  the  wholo  church. 

7.  Nor  did  this  spirit^  of  opposition  to  the  doctrines  and 
usurpations  of  the  Romish  church  break  out  in  Saxony 
mune  ^  an  attack  no  less  violent,  and  occasioned  by  the  same 
cause,  was  made  upon  them  about  this  time  in  l^witzerland. 


THE  REFORMATION. 


IS 


Lem- 
fthe 
nine 
peo- 
leans 
sand 
igrc- 
icter, 
,  they 
^ean- 
rested 
I  court 
;s,  in- 
logical 
the  ut- 
vho,  in 
tion  in 
3r  him- 
so  fatal 

ies,  who 
ss  with 
vith  the 
nt  parts 
ourt  of 
ority  of 
serious 
«r  to  ap- 
r  of  the 
he  em- 
ide  con- 
"^^ectoT  of 
leretical 
and  en- 
,  by  his 
brought 
offence 

ines  and 
Saxony 
the  same 
Lzerlaiwi' 


The  Franciscans  being  entrusted  with  the  promulgation  of 
indulgences  in  that  country,  executed  their  commission  with 
the  same  indiscretion  and  rapaciousness  which  had  render- 
ed the  Dominicans  so  odious  in  Germany.  They  proceeded, 
nevertheless,  with  uninterrupted  success,  till  they  arrived  at 
Zurich.  There  Zuinglias,  a  inan  not  inferior  to  TjUther 
himself  in  zeal  and  intrepidity,  ventured  to  oppose  them ; 
^and  being  animated  with  a  republican  boldness,  and  free 
from  those  restraints  which  subjection  to  the  will  of  a  prince 
imposed  on  a  German  reformer,  he  advanced  with  more  dar- 
ing and  rapid  steps,  to  overturn  the  whole  fabric  of  the  es- 
tablished religion.  The  appearance  of  such  a  vigorous  aux-  \ 
iliary,  and  the  progress  which  he  made,  was,  at  first,  matter 
of  great  joy  to  Luther.  On  the  other  hand,  the  decrees  of 
the  universities  of  Cologne  and  Louvain,  which  pronounced 
his  opinions  to  be  erroneous,  afforded  a  great  cause  of  tri- 
umph to  his  adversaries. 

8.  But  the  undaunted  spirit  of  Luther  acquired  additional 
fortitude  from  every  instance  of  opposition  ;  and  pushing  on 
his  inquiries  and  attacks  from  one  doctrine  to  another,  he  be- 
gan to  shake  the  firmest  foundations  on  w'ach  the  wealth  or 
power  of  the  church  were  established.  Leo  came  at  last  to 
be  convinced,  that  all  hopes  of  reclaiming  him  by  forbear- 
ance were  vain ;  several  prelates  of  great  wisdom  exclaim- 
ed no  less  than  Luther's  personal  adversaries,  against  the 
pope's  unprecedented  lenity,  in  permitting  an  incorrigible 
heretic,  who  during  three  years  had  been  endeavoring  to  sub- 
vert every  thing  sacred  and  venerable,  still  to  remain  within 
the  bosom  of  the  church ;  the  digni^iy  of  the  papal  see  ren- 
dered the  most  vigorous  proceedings  necessary ;  the  new 
emperor,  it  was  hoped,  would  su.^port  its  authority  ;  nor  did 
it  seem  probable,  that  the  elep^cor  of  Saxony  would  so  far  for- 
get his  usual  caution  as  to  ^et  himself  in  opposition  to  their 
united  power. 

9.  The  college  of  Cdtdinals  was  often  assembled,  in  order 
to  prepare  the  senten^be  with  due  deliberation ;  and  the  ablest 
canonists  were  co^asulted  how  it  might  be  expressed  veith 
unexceptionable  formality.  At  last,  on  the  15th  of  June, 
1520,  the  bull,  so  fatal  to  the  church  uf  Home,  was  issued. 


•of^m^mfm^m 


Who  waa  a  powerful  advocate  for  the  Reformation  in  Switzer- 
land ? — ^When  was  the  bull  of  excommunication  passed  upon  Luthat  ^ 


t^mmmm 


•vmn^ 


136 


THE  REFORMATION. 


'I-,, 


.4:-Hv 


Forty-ono  propopitions,  extracted  out  of  Luther's  works,  are 
therein  condemned  as  heretical,  scandalous,  and  offensive  to 
pious  eai'S ;  all  persons  are  forbidden  to  read  his  writings, 
upon  pain  of  excommunication  ;  such  as  had  any  of  them  in 
their  custody  are  commanded  to  commit  them  to  the  flames ; 
he  himself,  if  he  did  not,  within  sixty  days,  publicly  recant 
his  errors,  and  burn  his  books,  is  pronounced  an  obstinate 
heretic ;  is  excommunicated,  and  delivered  unto  Satan  for 
the  destruction  of  his  flesh  ;  and  all  secular  princes  are  re- 
quired, under  pain  of  incurring  the  same  censure,  to  seize  his 
person,  that  he  might  be  punished  as  his  crimes  deserved. 

10.  This  sentence,  which  he  had  for  some  time  expected, 
did  not  disconcert  or  intimidate  Luther.  He  boldly  declar- 
ed the  pope  to  be  that  man  of  sin,  or  antichrist,  whose  ap- 
pearance is  foretold  in  the  New  Testament ;  he  declaimed 
against  his  tyranny  and  usurpations,  with  greater  violence 
than  ever ;  he  exhorted  all  Christian  princes  to  shake  off 
such  an  ignominious  yoke  ;  and  boasted  of  his  own  happiness 
in  being  marked  out  as  the  object  of  ecclesiastical  indigna- 
tion, because  he  had  ventured  to  assert  the  liberty  of  man- 
kind. Nor  did  he  confine  his  expressions  of  contempt  for 
the  papal  power  to  words  alone  ;  Leo  having,  in  the  execu- 
tion of  the  bull,  appointed  Luther's  books  to  be  burnt  at 
Rome,  he,  by  w^ay  of  retaliation,  assembled  all  the  professors 
and  ntudents  in  the  university  at  Wittemberg,  and,  with 
great  pomp,  in  presence  of  a  vast  multitude  of  spectators, 
cast  the  volumes  of  the  canon  law,  together  with  the  bull  of 
excommunication,  iiito  the  flames ;  and  his  example  was  imi- 
tated in  several  cities  ir  Germany. 

lie  Wickliff,  in  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century,  by 
an  attack  on  the  doctrine*  of  transubstantiation,  indulgen- 
ces, and  auricular  confession,  and  still  more  by  a  translation 
JPof  the  Scriptures  into  the  vernacular  tongue,  had  prepared 
I  the  people  of  England  for  a  revolution  in  religious  opinions; 
but  his  professed  followers  were  not  iiumerous.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  intemperate  passions  of  Henry  VHI.,  the  pro- 
gress of  reformation  in  this  country  wouM  have  been  far  less 
lapid.    This  princs  being  excommunicated  by  the  pope  for 

What  did  Luther  do  with  this  bull  of  excommunication  ?— Who 
prepared  the  minds  of  the  people  in  England  for  the  Reformation  ?— ' 
WLc%  did  Wickhff  do  ?— What  caused  Henry  VIII.  to  declare  him- 
■ei,r  and  tho  Enj^Ush  church  independent  of  the  see  of  Rome : 


THE  DUNGEON. 


137 


having  divorced  ^is  queen,  declared  himself  head  of  the 
church  in  England.  He  proceeded  to  abolish  the  monaste- 
ries, and  confiscate  their  treasures  and  revenues;  erecting, 
out  of  the  latter,  six  new  bishoprics  and  a  college.  Yet 
Henry,  though  a  reformer,  and  a  pope  in  his  own  kingdom, 
had  not  yet  renounced  the  religion  of  Rome — he  was  equal- 
ly an  enemy  to  the  tenets  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  as  to  the 
pope's  jurisdiction  in  England. 

12.  On  the  death  of  Henry  VIII.,  1549,  and  the  accession 
of  his  son  Edward  VI.,  the  protestant  religion  prevailed  in 
England,  and  was  favored  by  the  sovereign  ;  but  he  died  at 
the  early  age  of  15,  in  1553;  and  the  sceptre  passed  to  the 
hands  of  his  sister  Mary,  an  intolerent  catholic/  and  most 
cruel  persecutor  of  the  protestants.  In  her  reign,  which  was 
of  fi  a  years'  duration,  above  800  miserable  victims  were 
burnt  at  the  stake,  martyrs  to  their  religious  opinions.  Mary 
was  succeeded  in  1558,  by  her  sister  Elizabeth,  a  protestant, 
the  more  zealous  from  an  abhorrence  of  the  character  of  her 
predecessor.  In  her  reign,  the  religion  of  England  became 
stationary.  The  hierarchy  was  established  in  its  present 
form,  by  arciibishops,  bishops,  priests,  and  cleacohs.  The 
liturgy  had  been  settled  iii  the  reign  of  Edward  Vt,  Tfc 
canons  are  agreeable  ehiefly  to  the  Lutheran  tenets. 


THE  DUNGEON. 

And  this  place  our  forefathers  made  for  man ! 
This  is  the  process  of  our  love  and  wisdom, 
To  each  poor  brother  who  offends  against  us — 
Most  innocent,  perhaps— And  what  if  guilty  1 
Is  this  the  only  cure  ?    Merciful  God  i 
Each  pore  and  natural  outlet  shrivelled  up 
By  ignorance  and  parching  poverty, 
His  energies  roll  back  upon  his  heart. 
And  stagnate  and  corrupt ;  till,  changM  to  poisoni 


t 


Who  succeeded  Henry  VIII.,  and  when  ? — What  effect  wai  pro- 
duced to  the  Reformation  by  the  accession  of  Edward  VI.  ? — Who 
Bucce<>.ded  Edward  VL  ?-^What  religion  did  Mary  favor  ? — How 
raany  persons  were  burnt  in  her  reign  for  their  reliffion .' — Who  suc- 
ceeded Mary,  and  when  ? — What  was  the  religion  of  Elizabeth  ? 
13* 


KM 


138 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


They  break  out  on  him  like  a  loathsome  plague-spot-^ 

Then  we  call  in  our  pampered  mountebanks-^ 

And  this  is  their  best  cure . — uncomforted 

And  friendless  solitude,  groaning  and  tears, 

And  savage  faces,  at  the  clanking  hour 

Seen  through  the  steams  and  vapor  of  his  dungeon 

By  the  lamp's  dismal  twilight ! — So  he  lies, 

Circled  v/ith  evil,  till  his  very  soul 

Unmoulds  its  essence,  hopelessly  deformed 

By  fellowship  with  desperate  deformity  ! 

With  other  ministrations,  thou,  O  Nature  ! 
Healest  thy  wandering  and  distempered  child. 
Thou  pourest  on  him  thy  soft  influences. 
Thy  sunny  hues,  fair  forms,  and  breathing  sweets, 
Thy  melodies  of  woods,  and  winds,  and  waters, 
Till  he  relent,  and  can  no  more  endure 
To  be  a  jarring  and  discordant  thing. 
Amid  this  general  dance  and  minstrelsy ; 
But  bursting  into  tears,  wins  back  his  way ; 
His  angry  spirit  healed  and  humanized 
By  the  benignant  touch  of  love  and  beauty. 


i 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

i.  The  principal  translation  of  the  Old  Testament  into 
iihe  Greek  language,  is  that  which  is  called  the  Septuagint. 
This  name  is  derived  from  the  Latin  word  septuaginta,  se- 
venty, the  version  being  related  to  have  been  made  by  seventy 
or  seventy-two  interpreters.  It  is  recorded  that,  about  the 
year  before  Christ  277,  Ptolemy  Philadelphus,  being  intent 
on  forming  a  great  library  at  Alexandria,  in  Egypt,  sent  to 
Eleazer,  the  high  priest  of  the  Jews,  to  request  a  copy  of  the 
miaw  of  Moses;  and,  as  he  was  ignorant  of  the  Hebrew  tongue, 
^e  further  desired  that  some  men  of  sufficient  capacity  might 
be  sent  to  translate  it  into  Greek. 

2.  The  messengers  who  went  upon  th!s  errand,  and  car- 
ried with  them  many  rich  presents  for  the  temple,  were  re- 


Why  is  the  G-resk  tranal&tiion  of  the  Old  Testa-ment  called  the 
LleplaagintP 


.Miib 


Mila 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


139 


-'■■'%i 


into 
[int. 
se- 
venty 
It  the 


;nt  to 
)fth6 
igue, 


Ini! 


ght 


car- 
re  re- 


ceived with  great  honor  and  respect,  both  by  tlie  high 
priest  and  all  the  people :  and  having  received  a  copy  of  the 
Law  of  Moses,  and  six  elders  having  been  assigned  out  of 
each  tribe  (seventy-two  in  all)  to  translate  it,  rcsturned  to 
Alexandria.  Upon  their  arrival,  the  elders  betook  them- 
selves to  the  work,  and  first  translated  the  Pentateuch,  after- 
wards the  re^t  of  the  Old  Testament,  into  Greek.  What- 
ever may  be  thought  of  the  truth  of  this  story,  it  is  certain, 
that  the  translation  called  the  Septuagint,  was  held  in  es- 
teem and  veneration  almost  equal  to  the  original,  and  was 
not  only  used  by  the  Jews  in  their  dispersion  through  the 
Grecian  cities,  but  approved  by  the  great  Sanhedrim  at  Je- 
rusalem, and  quoted  and  referred  to  by  our  blessed  Savior 
and  his  apostles. 

3.  The  Latin  translations  of  the  Bible  were  in  early  times 
extremely  numerous,  but  they  were  chiefly  made  from  the 
Septuagint,  and  not  from  the  original  Hebrew,  until  St.  Je- 
rome, who  was  well  versed  in  the  Hebrew  language,  observ- 
ing the  errors  of  the  many  Latin  translations,  and  their  fre- 
quent disagreement  with  the  original,  undertook  an  entirely 
new  translation,  and,  with  great  care  and  exactness,  trans- 
lated from  the  Hebrew  all  the  Old  Testament  except  the 
Psalms.  This  translation  of  St.  Jerome  was  not  universally 
received  in  the  church ;  and  at  length  another,  which  is 
composed  of  t|iis  and  some  former  translations,  and  which  is 
called  by  the  Komanists,  the  Ancient  Vulgate,  came  into 
general  use. 

4.  There  were  several  versions  of  the  Bible  into  the  Saxon 
tongue  ;  but  when  the  popes  of  Rome  had  established  thmr 
spiritual  tyranny,  they  forbade  the  reading  of  these  transla- 
tions ;  and  in  the  fourteenth  century,  the  common  people 
had  been  so  long  deprived  of  the  use  of  the  Scriptures,  that 
the  latest  of  the  translations  were  become  unintelligible. 
Wickliff,  therefore,  who  was  a  strenuous  opposer  of  the  cor- 
ruptions and  usurpations  of  the  church  of  Rome,  and  from 
whom  we  are  to  date  the  dawn  of  the  Reformation  in  Great 
Britain,  published  a  translation  of  the  whole  Bible  in  the 
English  language ;  but  not  being  sufficiently  acquainted 
with  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  languages  to  translate  from  the 


id  th« 


V^hat  translation  io  called  tho  Ancient  Vulffata  ? — Who  made  tht 
first  translation  of  the  Scriptuiss  into  tho  English  langua^ro  ? 


t 


140 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


originals,  he  made  his   translation  from  the  Latin  Bibles 
which  were  at  that  time  read  in  the  churches. 

5.  So  offensive  was  this  translation  of  the  Bible,  to  those 
who  were  for  taking  away  the  key  of  knowledge,  and  means 
of  better  information,  that  a  bill  was  brought  into  the  house 
of  lords  for  suppressing  it.  This  bill,  however,  was  rejected ; 
but  in  the  year  1408,  in  a  convocation  held  at  Oxford,  it 
was  decreed,  by  a  constitution,  "  That  no  one  should  there- 
after translate  any  text  of  Holy  Scripture  into  English,  by 
way  of  a  book,  or  little  book,  or  tract ;  and  that  no  book  of 
this  kind  should  be  read  that  was  composed  lately,  in  the  time 
of  John  Wickliff,  or  since  his  death."  This  constitution  led 
the  way  to  great  persecution  ;  and  many  persons  were  pu- 
nished severely,  and  some  even  with  death,  for  reading  the 
Scriptures  in  English. 

6.  During  the  sixteenth  century,  as  the  Reformation  ad- 
vanced, different  translations  of  the  Bible  were  made,  the 
most  distinguished  of  which  was  undertaken  by  royal  com- 
mand, and  under  the  direction  of  archbishop  Parker.  Dis- 
tinct portions,  iifleen  at  least,  were  allotted  to  as  many  per- 
sons, eminent  for  their  learning  and  abilities ;  they  all  per- 
formed the  work  assigned,  and  the  whole  was  afterwards 
revised  with  great  care  by  other  critics.  This  translation 
was  published  in  1658,  with  a  preface,  which  was  wjritten 
by  the  archbishc^;  and  it  is  generally  ci^led  the  jp^pp's 
Bible,  because  eight  of  the  persons  originally  concerned  in 
it  were  bishops. 

7.  In  the  conference  held  at  Hampton  Court,  in  1603, 
before  king  James  the  first,  between  the  Episcopalians  and 
Puritans,  Dr.  Reynolds,  the  speaker  of  the  Puritans,  request 
ed  his  majesty,  that  a  new  translation  of  the  Bible  might  be 
made,  alleging  that  those  which  had  been  made  in  rormer 
reigns  were  incorrect.  Accordingly  his  majesty  formed  the 
resolution  of  causing  a  new  and  more  faithful  translation  to 
be  made,  and  commissioned  for  that  purpose  fifty-four  of  the 
most  learned  men  in  the  universities  aiid  other  places. 

8.  At  the  same  time,  he  required  the  bishops  to  inform 
themselves  of  all  learned  men  within  their  several  dior'jsses, 
who  had  acquired  especial  skill  in  the  Hebrew  and  Greek 


What  oae  was  called  the  Bishops'  Bible  ? — Under  whose  authority 
•nd  direction  was  the  translation  now  in  common  use  made  f 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  BIBLE. 


HI 


tongues,  and  had  taken  pains,  in  their  private  studiei^  of  the 
ScriptureL,  fi^r  the  clearing  up  of  ohscurities,  either  in  the 
Hebrew,  or  the  Greek,  or  for  the  correction  of  any  mistakes 
in  the  former  English  translations ;  and  to  chaxge  thetn  to 
communicate  .thieir  observations  to  the  persons  employed, 
that  so,  the  inl;ended  translation  might  have  the  help  and 
furtherance  of  all  the  principal  learned  men  in  the  kingdom. 

9.  Before  the  work  was  begun,  seven  of  the  persons  no- 
minated for  it,  either  were  dead,  or  declined  to  engage  in  the 
task.  The  remaining  forty-seven  were  ranged  under  six 
divisions,  and  several  parcels  of  the  Bible  were  assigned  to 
them,  according  to  the  several  places  where  they  were  to 
meet,  confer,  and  consult  together.  Every  one  of  the  com- 
pany was  to  translate  the  whole  parcel ;  then  they  were  each 
to  compare  their  translations  together,  and  when  any  com- 
pany had  finished  their  part,  they  were  to  communicate  it  to 
the  other  companies,  so  that  nothing  might  pass  without 
general  consent. 

10.  If  any  company,  upon  a  review  of  the  book  so  sent, 
doubted  or  differed  upon  any  place,  they  were  to  note  the 
place,  and  send  back  the  reasons  for  their  disagreement.  If 
they  happened  to  differ  about  the  amendments,  the  differ- 
ence was  to  be  referred  to  a  general  committee,  consisting 
of  the  chief  persons  of  each  company^  at  the  end  of  the  work^, 
When  any  passage  was  found  remarkably  obscure,  letters ' 
were  to  be  directed,  by  authority^  to  any  learned  persons  in 
the  land,  for  their  judgment  thereon. 

11.  The  work  was  begun  ;n  the  spring  of  1607,  and  pro- 
secuted with  ajl  due  care  and  deliberation.  It  was  about 
three  years  before  it  was  Anished.  Two  persons  selected 
from  the  Cambridge  translators,  two  from  those  at  Oxford, 
and  two  from  those  at  ^Westminster,  then  met  at  Stationers' 
Hall,  and  read  over  and  corrected  the  whole.  After  long 
expectation,  and  great  desire  of  the  nation,  this  translation 
came  forth  in  the  year  1611,  the  divines  employed  having 
taken  the  greatest  pains  in  conducting  the  work,  noi  only 
examining  translation)^  with  the  original,  which  was  abso- 
lutely necessary,  but  also  comparing  together  all  the  exist- 
ing translations,  in  th^  Italian,  Spanish,  French,  and  other 
languages. 


How  many  pertoni  were  employed  in  making  it  i 


r 


ne 


^mmm 


mmm 


f»<'i.i. 


143 


PATRIOTS  AND  MARTYRS, 


12.  This  is  the  translation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  now  in 
common  use  amongsi  us ;  and  since  that  time  there  has  been 
no  authorised  version  of  any  part  of  the  sacred  volume.  The 
excellency  of  it  is  such  as  might  be  expected,  from  the  ju- 
dicious care  v;ith  which  it  was  conducted,  and  the  joint  la- 
bors of  the  many  distinguished  men  employed  upon  it.  "  It 
is,"  says  Dr.  Gray,  "  a  most  wonderful  and  incomparable 
work,  equally  remarkable  for  the  general  fidelity  of  its  con- 
struction^  and  the  magnificent  simplicity  of  its  language." 


\\.  [ 


W'"ik. 


m 


PATRIOTS  AND  MARTYRS. 

Patriots  have  toil'd,  and  in  their  country's  cause 
Bled  nobly  ;  and  their  deeds,  as  they  deserve. 
Receive  proud  recompense.     We  give  in  charge 
Their  names  to  the  sweet  lyre.     Th'  historic  muse. 
Proud  of  the  treasure,  marches  with  it  down 
To  latest  times;  and  sculpture,  in  her  turn, 
Gfves  bond  in  stone  and  ever-during  brass 
To  guard  them,  and  t'  immortalize  her  trust ; 
But  fairer  wreaths  are  due,  though  never  paid, 
To  those,  who,  posted  at  the  shrine  of  Truth, 
Have  fallen  in  her  defence.     A  patriot's  blood, 
Well  spent  in  such  a  strife,  may  earn  indeed, 
And  for  a  time  ensure,  to  his  lov'd  land. 
The  sweets  of  liberty  and  eqUtal  laws ; 
Bui  martyrs  struggle  for  a  brighter  prize,     * 
And  win  it  with  more  prin.     Thdr  blood  is  shed 
In  confirmation  of  the  noblest  clair£i — 
Our  claim  to  feed  upon  immortal  truth, 
To  walk  with  God,  to  be  divinely  fi-ee,. 
To  soar,  and  to  anticipate  the  skies ! 
Yet  few  remember  them.    They  liv'd  unknoun, 
Till  persecution  dragg'd  them  into  fame. 
And  chas'd  them  up  to  heaven.    Their  ashes  flew 
— ^No  marble  tells  us  whither.    With  their  names 
No  bard  embalms  and  sanctifies  his  song ! 
And  history,  so  warm  on  meaner  themes. 
Is  cold  on  this.    She  execrates  indeed 
The  tyranny  that  doom*d  them  to  the  fire. 
But  gives  the  glorious  sufiferers  little  praise. 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 
THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


143 


1.  In  defending  the  citadel  of  Pampeluna,  Ignatio  Loyola, 
a  Biscayan  gentleman,  was  dangerously  wounded.  During 
the  progress  of  a  lingering  cure,  Loyola  happened  to  have 
no  other  amusement  than  what  he  found  in  reading  the  lives 
of  the  saints.  The  effect  of  this  on  his  mind,  naturally  en- 
thusiastic, but  ambitious  and  daring,  was  to  inspire  him  with 
such  a  desire  of  emulating  the  glory  of  these  fabulous  wor- 
thies of  the  Romish  church,  as  led  him  into  the  wildest  and 
most  extravagant  adventures,  which  terminated  at  last  in  in- 
stituting the  society  of  Jesuits,  the  most  political  and  best 
regulated  of  all  the  monastic  orders,  and  from  which  man- 
kind have  derived  more  advantages  and  received  greater  in- 
jury, than  from  any  other  of  those  religious  fraternities. 

2.  When  men  take  a  view  of  the  rapid  progress  of  this 
society  towards  wealth  and  power ;  when  they  contemplate 
the  admirable  prudence  with  v;hich  it  has  been  governed  ; 
when  they  attend  to  the  persevering  and  systematic  spirit 
with  which  its  schemes  have  been  carried  on  ;  they  are  apt 
to  ascribe  such  a  singular  institution  to  the  superior  wisdom 
of  its  founder,  and  to  suppose  that  he  had  formed  and  digest- 
ed his  plan  with  profound  policy.  But  the  Jesuits,  as  well 
as  the  other  monastic  orders,  are  indebted  for  the  existence 
of  their  order  rather  to  the  enthusiasm  than  to  the  wisdom 
of  their  founder.  The  wild  adventures,  and  visionary 
schemes,  in  which  his  enthusiasm  engaged  him,  equal  any 
thing  in  the  legends  of  the  Romish  saints ;  but  are  unwor- 
thy of  notice  in  history. 

3.  Prompted  by  this  fanatical  spirit,  or  incited  by  the  love 
of  power  and  distinction,  from  which  such  pretenders  to  su- 
perior sanctity  are  not  exempt,  Loyola  was  ambitious  of  be- 
coming the  founder  of  a  religious  order.  The  plan  which 
he  formed  of  its  constitution  and  Iaw<;,  was  suggested,  as  he 
gave  out,  and  as  his  followers  still  teach,  by  the  immediate 
inspiration  of  heaven.  But  notwithstanding  this  high  pre- 
tension, his  design  met  at  first  with  violent  opposition.  The 
pope,  to  whom  Loyola  had  applied  for  the  sanction  of  his 

Who  was  the  founder  of  the  order  of  Jesuits  ?— Under  what  cir- 
cfdhstances  was  he  led  to  the  establishment  of  it  ? — Ax9  the  Jesuits 
indebted  to  the  superior  wisdom,  or  to  the  enthusiasm)  of  Loyola  ? 


144 


THE  ORDflR  OF  JESUITS. 


lil 


authority  to  confirm  the  institution,  referred  his  petition  to  a 
committee  of  cardinals.  They  represented  the  establish- 
ment to  be  unnecessary  as  well  as  dangerous;  and  Paul  re- 
fused to  grant  his  approbation  of  it.  At  last,  Loyola  remov- 
ed all  his  scruples,  by  an  oflfer  which  it  was  impossible  for 
any  pope  to  resist.  He  proposed,  that  besides  the  three 
vows,  of  poverty,  of  chastity,  and  of  monastic  obedience, 
which  arc  common  to  all  the  orders  of  regulars,  the  members 
of  this  society  should  take  a  fourth  vow,  of  obedience  to  the 
pope,  binding  themselves  to  go  whithersoever  he  should  com- 
mand, for  the  service  of  religion,  and  without  requiring  any 
thing  from  the  holy  see  for  their  support. 

4.  At  a  time  when  the  papal  authority  had  received  such 
a  shock,  by  the  revolt  of  many  nations  from  the  Romish 
church  ;  at  a  time  when  every  part  of  the  popish  system  was 
attacked  with  so  much  violence  and  success,  the  acquisition 
of  a  body  of  men  thus  peculiarly  devoted  to  the  see  of  Rome, 
and  whom  it  might  set  in  opposition  to  all  its  enemies,  was  an 
object  of  the  highest  consequence.  Paul,  instantly  perceiv 
ing  this,  confirmed  the  institution  of  the  Jesuits,  by  his  bull ; 
granted  the  most  ample  privileges  to  the  members  of  the  so- 
ciety; and  appointed  Loyola  to  be  the  first  general  of  the 
order.  The  event  has  fully  justified  Paul's  discernment,  in 
expecting  such  beneficial  consequences  to  the  see  of  Rome 
from  this  institution.  In  less  than  half  a  century,  the  socie- 
ty obtained  establishments  in  every  country  that  adhered  to 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church — its  nower  and  wealth  increased 
amazingly ;  the  number  of  its  members  became  great ;  their 
character,  as  well  as  their  accomplishments,  were  still  great- 
er; and  the  Jesuits  were  celebrated  by  the  friends,  and 
dreaded  by  the  enemies  of  the  Romish  faith,  as  the  most 
able  and  enterprising  order  in  the  Church. 

5.  The  primary  object  of  almost  all  the  monastic  orders, 
is  to  separate  men  from  the  world,  and  from  any  concern  in 
its  affairs.  In  the  solitude  and  silence  of  the  cloister,  the 
monk  is  called  to  work  out  his  own  salvation,  by  extraordi- 
nary acts  of  mortification  and  piety.  He  is  dead  to  the  world, 
and  ought  not  to  mingle  in  its  transactions.  He  can  be  of 
no  benefit  to  mankind  but  by  his  example,  and  by  his  pray- 

On  what  conditions  did  the  pope  consent  to  the  establishment  of 
the  order  of  Jesuits  P — What  is  the  primary  object  of  most  of  the  mo- 
nostic  orders  ? 


■■Pi 


TT 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


145 


ion  to  a 
itablish- 
Paul  re- 
,  remov- 
sible  for 
le  three 
edience, 
aembers 
56  to  the 
lid  corn- 
ring  any 

ved  such 
Romish 
stem  was 
iquisition 
of  Rome, 
IS,  was  an 
^  perceiv 
his  bull ; 
of  the  so- 
cial of  the 
nment,  in 
I  of  Rome 
the  socie- 
idhered  to 
increased 
eat;  their 
still  great- 
ends,  and 
the  most 

tic  orders, 
Concern  in 
[oister,  the 
1  extraordi- 
the  world, 
lean  be  of 
his  pray- 

llishment  of 
of  the  ino' 


era.  On  the  contrary,  the  Jesuits  are  taught  lo  consider 
themselves  as  formed  for  action.  They  are  chosen  soldiers, 
bound  to  exert  themselves  continually  in  ther  service  of  God, 
and  of  the  pope,  his  vicar  on  earth.  Whatever  tends  to  in- 
struct the  ignorant,  whatever  can  be  of  use  to  recl^m,  or  to 
oppose,  the  enemies  of  the  holy  see,  is  their  proper  object. 
That  they  may  have  full  leisure  for  this  active  service,  they 
are  totally  exempted  from  those  functions,  the  performance 
of  which  is  the  chief  business  of  other  monks.  They  appear 
in  no  processions ;  they  practise  no  rigorous  austerities ; 
they  do  not  consume  one  half  of  their  time  in  the  repetition 
of  tedious  offices.  But  they  are  required  to  attend  to  all  the 
transactions  of  the  world,  on  account  of  the  influence  which 
these  may  have  upon  religion ;  they  are  directed  to  study  the 
disposition  of  persons  in  hi^h  rank,  and  to  cultivate  their 
friendship ;  and  by  the  very  constitution,  as  well  as  genius 
of  the  order,  a  spirit  of  action  and  intrigue  is  iniused  into  all 
its  members. 

6.  As  the  object  of  the  society  of  Jesuits  differed  from 
that  of  the  other  monastic  orders,  the  diversity  was  no  less 
in  the  form  of  its  government.  The  other  orders  are  to  be 
considered  as  voluntary  associations,  in  which  whatever  af- 
fects the  whole  body,  is  regulated  by  the  common  suffrage 
of  all  its  members.  The  executive  power  is  vested  in  the 
persons  placed  at  the  head  of  each  convent,  or  of  the  whole 
society;  the  legislative  authjority  resides  in  th^  community. 
Affairs  of  moment,  relating  to  particular  convents,  are  deter- 
mined in  conventual  cba^pters;  such  as  respect  the  whole 
order,  are  considered  in  general  congregations.  But  Xoyola. 
full  of  the  ideas  of  implicit  obedience,  which  he  had  derived 
from  his  military  professioi^,  appointed,  that  the  govermneut 
of  his  order  should  be  purely  roonart^hijpal.  A  general  cho- 
sen for  life,  by.  deputies  from  the  several  provinces,  possessed 
power  that  was  supreme  an4,  indepj^pdant,  extending  to  every 
person,  and  to  every  case. 

-7.  This  general,  by  his  sole  aut})iprity  nqminated  provincial, 
rectors,  and  eviery  other  officer  emplpyed  in  the  goyenment 
of  the  society,  and  could  r^enc^qve  them  at  pl^aisure.  In,  lum 
wa&  vested  the  sovereign  ajdn^inistrAtipn  of  t^e  revenuesi  and 
fnnds  of  tli(^  order.    Every,  n^emb^r  l^ionging  to J|, .  \yas  at 


T- 


What  wfUB  thi^  gpyerofnent  of  thii,cti;der  qffJesuitf ,? 

■  i4 


\ 


146 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


W 


It 


hiB  disposal ;  and  by  his  uncontrollable  mandate,  he  could 
impose  on  them  any  task,  or  employ  them  in  what  service  so- 
ever he  pleased.  To  his  commands  they  were  required  not 
only  to  yield  outward  obedience,  but  to  resign  up  to  him  the 
inclinations  of  their  own  wills,  and  the  sentiments  of  their 
own  understandings.  They  were  to  listen  to  his  injunc- 
tions, as  if  they  had  been  uttered  by  Christ  himself.  Under 
his  direction,  they  were  to  be  mere  passive  instruments,  like 
clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter,  or  like  dead  carcasses,  incapa- 
ble of  resistance.  Such  a  singular  form  of  policy  could 
not  fail  to  impress  its  character  on  all  the  members  of  the 
order,  and  to  give  a  peculiar  force  to  all  its  operations. 
There  is  not,  tn  the  annals  of  mankind,  any  example  of  such 
a  perfect  despotispi,  exercised,  not  over  monks,  shut  up  in 
the  cells  of  a  convent,  but  over  men  dispersed  among  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth. 

8.  As  it  was  the  professed  intention  of  the  order  of  Jesuits 
to  labor  with  unwearied  zeal  in  promoting  the  salvation  of 
men,  this  engaged  them,  of  course,  in  many  active  functions. 
From  their  first  institution,  they  considered  the  education  of 
youth  as  their  peculiar  province  ;  they  aimed  at  being  spiritu- 
al guides  and  confessors ;  they  preached  frequently  in  order 
to  mstruct  the  people ;  they  set  out  as  missionaries  to  con- 
vert unbelieving  nations.  The  novelty  of  the  institution,  as 
well  as  the  singularity  of  its  objects,  procured  the  order 
many  admirers  and  patrons.  The  governors  of  the  society 
had  the  address  to  avail  themselves  of  every  circumstance  in 
its  favor,  and  in  a  short  time  '  s  number  as  well  as  the  in- 
fluence of  its  members  increased  wonderfiilly. 

9.  Even  before  the  expiration  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
Jesuits  had  obtained  the  chief  direction  of  the  education  of 
youth  in  every  Catholic  country  in  Europe.  They  had  be- 
come the  confessors  of  almost  all  its  monarcLs,  a  function  of 
no  small  importance  in  any  reign ;  but  under  a  weak  prince, 
superior  even  to  that  of  minister.  They  were  the  spiritual 
guides  of  almost  every  person  eminent  for  rank  or  power. 
They  possessed  the  highest  degree  of  confidence  and  interest 
with  the  papal  court,  as  the  most  able  and  zealous  champions 
for  its  authority.  The  advantages  which  an  active  and  en- 
terprising body  of  men  might  derive  from  all  these  circum- 
stances, are  obvious.  They  formed  the  minds  of  men  in 
their  youth.    They  retained  an  ascendant  over  them  in  their 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


/ 


i  80- 

Inot 
I  the 

their 
junc- 
Jnder 
;,  like 
icapa- 
couM 
of  the 
ations. 
)f  such 
up  in 
all  the 

Jesuits 

ition  of 

notions. 

ation  of 

r  spiriw- 

'in  order 

s  to  con- 

ution,  as 
le  order 
society 
jtance  in 
Ls  the  in- 

|itury,  the 
cation  of 
hadbe- 
iction  of 
Ik  prince, 
■  spiritual 
r  power. 
|d  interest 
Ihampiona 
and  en- 
circum- 
ff  men  in 
in  their 


advanced  years.  They  possessed,  at  different  periods,  the 
direction  of  the  most  considerable  courts  in  Europe.  They 
mingled  in  all  affairs.  They  took  part  in  every  intrigue  and 
revolution.  The  general,  by  means  of  the  extensive  intelli- 
gence which  he  received,  could  regulate  the  operations  of 
the  order  with  the  most  perfect  discernment ;  and  by  means 
of  his  absolute  power,  could  carry  them  on  with  the  utmost 
vigor  and  effect. 

10.  Together  with  the  power  of  the  order,  its  wealth  con- 
tinued to  increase.  Various  expedients  were  devised  for 
eluding  the  obligation  of  the  vow  of  poverty.  The  order  ac- 
quired ample  possessions  in  every  Catholic  country  ;  and  by 
the  number  as  well  as  magnificence  of  its  public  buildings, 
together  with  the  value  ot  its  property,  moveable  or  real,  it 
vied  with  the  most  opulent  of  the  monastic  fraternities.  Be- 
sides the  sources  of  wealth  common  to  all  the  regular  clergy, 
the  Jesuits  possessed  one  which  was  peculiar  to  themselves. 
Under  pretext  of  promoting  the  success  of  their  missions, 
and  of  facilitating  the  support  of  their  missionaries,  they  ob- 
tained a  special  license  from  the  court  of  Rome,  to  trade 
with  the  nations  which  they  laboured  to  convert.  In  conse- 
quence of  this,  they  engaged  in  an  extensive  and  lucrative 
commerce,  both  in  the  East  and  West  Indies.  They  opened 
ware-houses  in  different  parts  of  Europe,  injvhich  they  vend- 
ed their  commodities.  Not  satisfied  with  trade  alone,  they 
imitated  the  example  of  other  commercial  societies,  and  aim- 
ed at  obtaining  settlements.  They  acquired  possession  ac"^ 
cordingly,  of  a  large  and  fertile  province  in  the  southern 
continent  of  America,  and  reigned  as  sovereigns  over  some 
hundred  thousand  subjects. 

.11.  Unhappily  for  mankind,  the  vast  influence  which  the 
order  of  Jesuits  acquired  by  all  these  different  means,  has 
been  often  exerted  with  the  most  pernicious  effect.  Such 
was  the  tendency  of  that  discipline  observed  by  the  society 
in  its  members,  and  such  the  fundamental  maxims  in  its  con- 
stitution, that  every  Jesuit  was  taught  to  regard  the  interest 
t  of  the  order  as  the  capital  object,  to  which  every  considera- 
tion was  to  be  sacrificed.  This  spirit  of  attachment  to  their 
order,  the  most  ardent,  perhaps,  that  ever  influenced  any 

Under  woat  pretext  did  the  Jesoits  obtain  special  Hcenie  for  com- 
flMr6e  with  the  nationi  in  which  Ibey  resided  ? 


/ 


148 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


hn 


I ;  -:>'t1 


*■■.  V, 


body  of  men,  is  the  characteristic  principle  of  the  Jesuits, 
and  serves  as  a  key  to  the  genius  of  their  policy,  as  well  aa 
to  the  peculiarities  in  their  sentiments  and  conduct. 

12.  As  it  was  for  the  honor  and  advantage  of  the  society, 
that  its  members  should  possess  an  ascendant  over  persons 
in  high  rank,  or  of  great  power,  the  desire  of  acquiring  and 
preserving  such  a  direction  of  their  conduct,  with  greater 
facility,  has  led  the  Jesuits  to  propagate  a  system  of  relaxed 
and  pliant  morality,  which  accommodates  itself  to  the  pas- 
raons  of  men,  which  justifies  their  vices,  which  tolerates  their 
imperfections,  which  authorizes  almost  every  action  that  the 
most  audacious  or  crafty  politician  wou'  1  wish  to  perpetuate. 
As  the  pK)sperity  of  the  order  was  intimately  connected  with 
the  preservation  of  the  papal  authority,  the  Jesuits,  influenced 
by  the  same  principle  of  attachment  to  the  interests  of  their 
society,  have  been  the  most  zealous  patrons  of  those  doc- 
trines, which  tend  to  exalt  ecclesiastical  power  on  the  ruins 
of  civil  government.  They  have  attributed  to  the  coart  of 
Rome  a  jurisdiction  as  extensive  and  absolute  as  was  claimed 
by  the  most  presumptuous  pontiffs  in  the.  dark  ages.  They 
have  contended  for  the  entire  independence  of  ecclesiastics 
on  the  civil  magistrate.  They  have  published  such  tenets 
concerning  the  duty  of  opposing  princes  who  were  enemies 
of  the  Catholic  faith,  as  countenanced  the  most  atrocious 
crimes,  and  tended  to  dissolve  all  the  ties  which  connect 
subjects  with  their  rulers. 

13.  As  the  order  derived  both  reputation  and  authority, 
from  the  zeal  with  which  it  stood  forth  in  defence  of  the 
Romish  church  against  the  attacks  of  the  reformers,  its  mem- 
bers, proud  of  this  distinction,  have  considered  it  as  their 
peculiar  function  to  combat  the  opinions  and  check  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Protestants.  They  have  made  use  of  every  art, 
and  have  employed  every  weapon  against  them.  They  have 
set  themselves  in  opposition  to  every  gentle  OT  tolerating 
measure  in  their  &vpr.  They  have  incessantly  stirred  up 
against  them  all  the  rage  of  ecclesiastical  and  civil  psrsecu- 
tion.  Monks  of  other  denominations  have,  indeed,  ven^nrer' 
tO'teach'the  same' pernicious  doctrines,  and  have  h^'  "v 
nions  equally  inconsistent  with  the  order  and  happi        of 


What  wa»  the  morality  of  the  Jesuita  ?— What  cdUrBe  did  the  Je 
■idts  take  in  regard  to  the  Reformatioi^  ? 


V 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


149 


civil  society.  But  they,  from  reasons  which  are  obvious, 
ha?e  either  delivered  such  opinions  with  greater  reserve,  or 
have  propagated  them  with  less  success.  Whoever  recollects 
the  events  which  have  happened  in  Europe,  during  two  cen- 
turies, will  find  that  the  Jesuits  may  justly  be  considered  as 
responsible  for  most  of  the  pernicious  effects  arising  from 
that  corrupt  and  dangerous  casuistry,  from  those  extravagant 
tenets  concerning  ecclesiastical  power,  and  from  that  into- 
lerant spirit,  which  have  been  the  diisgrace  of  the  Church  of 
Rome  throughout  that  period,  and  which  have  brought  so 
many  calamities  upon  civil  society. 

14.  But  amidst  many  bad  consequences  flowing  from  th^ 
institution  of  this  order,  mankind,  it  must  be  acknowledged^ 
have  derived  from  it  some  considerable  advantages.  As  the 
Jesuits  made  the  education  of  youth  one  of  their  capital  ob^ 
jectS;  and  as  their  first  attempts  to  establish  colleges  for  the 
reception  of  students  were  violently  opposed  by  the  universi- 
ties in  different  countries,  it  became  necessary  for  themj  a» 
the  most  effectual  method  of  acquiring  the  public  favor,  to 
surpass  tb.eir  rivals  in  science  and  industry.  This  prompted 
them  to  cultivate  the  study  of  ancient  literature,  with  extra- 
ordinary ardor.  This  put  them  upon  various  methods  for 
facilitating  th<e  instruction  of  youth ;  and  by  the  improve^ 
ments  whi^hthey  made  in  it,  tjiey  have  contributed  so  much 
towards  the  progress  of  polite  learning,  that  on  this  accoam 
they  have  merited  well  of  society.  Nor  has  the  order  of 
Jesuits  been  successful  only  in  teaching  the  elements  of  li« 
terature ;  it  h^  produced  likewise  eminent  masters  in  many 
branches  of  science;  and  can  alone  boast  of  a  greater  num- 
ber of  ingenious  authors  than  all  the  other  religious  frater- 
nities taken  together. 

15.  But  it  is  in  the  new  world,  that  the  Jesuits  have  ex- 
hibited the  mOst  wonderful  display  of  their  abilities,  and  have 
contributeld  most  effectually  to  the  benefit  ot  the  human  spe- 
cies. The  conquerors  of  that  unfortunate  quarter  of  the 
globe  acted  at  first  as  if  they  h^d  nothing  in  view,  but  to 
plunder,  to  enslave,  and  to  exterminate  its  inhabitants.  The 
Jesuits  alone  made  humanity  the  object  of  their  settling 
there.  About  the  beginnmg  of  the  last  century,  they  obtain- 
ed admission  into  the  fertile  province  of  Paraguay,  which 


What  wer9  some  of  Uio  pxincimjgJ  b^ne^^f  of  tha  pr^er  of  JesnitB  ? 

14* 


150 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS, 


ill'* 


m 


lii 


stretches  across  the  southern  continent  of  America,  from  the 
east  side  of  the  immense  ridge  of  the  Andes,  to  the  confines 
of  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  settlements  on  the  banks  of 
the  rivor  de  la  Plata.  They  found  the  inhabitants  in  a  state 
little  different  from  that  which  takes  place  among  men  when 
they  tirst  begin  to  unite  together ;  strangers  to  the  arts ;  sub- 
wsting  precariously  by  hunting  or  fishing ;  and  hardly  ac- 
quamted  with  the  first  principles  of  subordination  and  go- 
vernment. 

i.6.  The  JeBuits  set  themselves  to  instruct  and  lo  civilize 
these  savages.  They  taught  them  to  cultivate  the  ground, 
to  rear  tame  animals,  and  to  build  houses.  They  brought 
them  to  live  together  in  villages.  They  trained  them  to  arts 
and  manufactures.  They  made  them  taste  the  sweets  of  so- 
ciety ;  and  accustomed  them  tr  the  blessings  of  security  and 
order.  These  people  became  the  subjects  of  their  benefac- 
tors, who  have  governed  them  with  a  tender  attention,  re- 
fsombling  that  with  which  a  father  directs  his  children.  Re- 
spected and  beloved  alraost  to  adoration,  a  few  Jesuits  presid- 
ed over  some  hundred  thousand  Indians.  They  maintained 
a  perfect  equality  among  all  the  members  of  the  community. 
Each  of  them  was  obliged  to  labor  not  for  himself  alone,  but 
for  the  public. 

17.  The  produce  of  their  fields,  together  with  the  fruits  of 
their  industry  of  every  species,  were  deposited  in  common 
store-houses,  frqm  which  each  individual  received  every 
thing  necessary  for  the  supply  of  his  wants.  By  this  insti- 
tution, almost  all  the  passions  which  disturb  the  peace  of 
society,  and  render  the  members  of  it  unhappy,  were  ex- 
tinguished. A  few  magistrates,  chosen  from  among  their 
countrymen,  by  the  Indians  themselves,  watched  over  the 
public  tranquillity,  and  secured  obedience  to  the  laws^  The 
sanguinary  punishments  frequent  under  other  governments 
were  unknown.  An  admonition  from  a  Jesuit;  a  slight 
mark  of  infamy ;  or,  on  some  singular  occasion,  a  few  lashes 
firom  a  whjp,  were  sufficient  to  maintain  good  order  among 
these  innocent  and  happy  people. 

Id.  But  even  in  this  meritorious  effort  of  the  Jesuits  for 
the  good  of  mankind,  the  genius  and  spirit  of  their  order 
have  mingled  and  are  discernible.     They  plainly  aimed  at 


What  was  thsir  object  in  settling  in  South  America  ? 


THE  ORDER  OF  JESUITS. 


151 


rom  the 
ionl&nes 
anks  of 
I  a  state 
in  when 
ts ;  sub- 
,rdly  ac- 
and  go- 
civilize 
ground, 
brouglit 
en  to  arts 
sts  of  so- 
urity  and 
benefac- 
ition,  re- 
in.   Re- 
its  presid- 
aintained 
mmunity. 
ilone,but 

J  fruits  of 
common 
ed  every 
;his  insti- 
peace  of 
were  ex- 
ing  their 
over  the 
s.    The 
ernments 
a  slight 
few  lashes 
|er  among 

[esuits  for 
leir  order 
aimed  at 


establishhig  in  Paraguay  an  independent  empire,  subject  to 
the  society  alone,  and  which,  by  the  superior  excellence  of 
its  constitution  and  police,  could  scarcely  have  failed  to  ex- 
tend its  dominion  over  all  the  southern  continent  of  Ameri- 
ca. With  this  view,  in  order  to  prevent  the  Spaniards  or 
Portuguese  ir»  the  adjacent  settlements,  from  acquiring  any 
dangerous  influence  over  the  people  within  the  limits  of  the 
proviilice  subject  to  the  society,  the  Jesuits  endeavored  to  in- 
spire the  Indians  with  hatred  and  contempt  of  these  nations. 
They  cut  oft'  al'  intercourse  between  their  subjects  and  the 
Spanish  and  Portuguese  settlements.  I'hey  prohibited  any 
private  trader  of  either  nation  to  enter  their  territories* 
When  they  were  obliged  to  admit  any  person  in  a  public 
character  from  the  neighboring  governments,  they  did  not 
permit  him  to  have  any  conversation  with  their  subjects,  and 
no  Indian  was  allowed  even  to  enter  the  house  where  these 
strangers  resided,  unless  in  the  presence  of  a  Jesuit. 

19.  In  order  to  render  any  communication  between  thero 
as  difficult  as  possible,  they  industriously  avoided  giving  the 
Indians  any  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  or  of  any  either  Euro- 
pean language ;  but  encouraged  the  different  tribes,  which 
they  had  civilized,  to  acquire  a  certain  dialect  of  the  Indian 
tongue,  and  labored  to  make  that  the  universal  language 
throughout  their  dominions.  As  all  these  precautions,  with- 
oat  a  military  force,  would  have  been  insufficient  to  have 
rendered  their  empire  secure  and  permanent,  they  instructed 
their  subjects  in  the  European  arts  of  war.  They  formed 
tkem  into  bodies  of  cavalry  and  infantry,  completely  armed 
and  regularly  disciplined.  They  provided  a  great  train  of 
artillery,  as  well  as  magazines  stored  with  all  the  implements 
of  war.  Thus  they  established  an  army  so  numerous  and 
veil  appointed,  as  to  be  formidable  in  a  country,  where  a 
fiiw  fliclsly  and  ill-disciplined  battalions  composed  all  the  mill- 
inry  force  kept  on  foot  by  the  Spaniards  or  Portuguese. 

How  did  the  ffenius  of  the  order  of  Jesuit!  discover  itself  in  their 
lettlomeuts  in  South  America  ? 


152 


AN  EVENING  SKETCH. 


m 


li;«l 


!::  I'' 


iiM 


AN  EVENING  SKETCH. 

The  birds  have  ceased  their  song, 
Allj  save  the  black-cap,  that,  amid  the  boughs 
Of  yon  tall  ash  tree,  from  his  mellow  throat, 
In  adoration  of  the  setting  sun, 
Chants  forth  his  evening  hymn. 

'Tis  twilight  now  ; 
The  sovereign  sun  behind  his  western  hills 
In  glory  ham  declined.    The  mighty  clouds, 
Kissed  by  his  warm  effulgence,  hang  around 
In  all  their  congregated  hues  of  priSe, 
Like  pillars  of  some  tabernacle  grand, 
VITorthy  his  glowing  presence ;  while  the  sky. 
Illumined  to  its  centre,  glows  intense, 
Changing  its  sapphire  majesty  to  gold. 
How  deep  is  the  tranquillity  !  the  trees 
Are  slumbering  through  their  multitude  of  boughs 
Even  to  the  leaflet  on  the  frailest  twig ! 
A  twilight  gloom  pervades  the  distant  hills ; 
An  azure  softness  mingling  with  the  sky. 
The  fisherman  drags  to  the  yellow  shore 
His  laden  nets ;  and,  in  the  sheltering  cove, 
Behind  yon  rocky  point,  his  shallop  inoors, 
To  tempt  again  the  perilous  deep  at  dawn. 

The  sea,  as  waveless  as  a  lake  ingulf'd 
•Mid  sheltering  hills— -without  a  ripple  spreads 
Its  bosom,  silent,  and  immense — ^the  hues 
Of  flickering  day  have  from  its  surface  died, 
Leaving  it  garb*d  in  sunless  majesty. 
With  bosoming  branches  round,  yon  village  hangs 
Its  row  of  lofly  elm  trees ;  silently 
Towering  in  spiral  wreaths  to  the  sofl  sky, 
The  smoke  from  many  a  cheerful  hearth  ascends, 
Melting  in  ether. 

As  I  gaze,  behold 
The  evening  star  illumines  the  blue  south, 
Twinkling  in  loveliness.    O  !  holy  star, 
Thou  bright  dispenser  of  the  twilight  dews, 
Thou  herald  of  Night's  glowing  galaxy, 
And  harbinger  of  social  bliss !  how  ou, 
Amid  the  twilights  of  departed  years. 


MARTYRS  OF  ARMORIAN 

Resting  beside  the  river's  mirror  clear, 

On  trunk  of  mossy  oak,  with  eyes  upturned 

To  thee  in  admiration,  have  I  sat 

Dreaming  sweet  dreams  till  earth-born  tarbulence 

Was  all  forgot ;  and  thinking  that  in  thee, 

Far  from  the  rudeness  of  this  jarring  world, 

There  might  be  realms  of  quiet  happiness ! 


153 


MARTYRS  OF  ARMORIAN. 

1.  In  the  reign  of  Theophilus,  the  Saracens  ravaged  many 
parts  of  the  eastern  empire,  gained  considerable  advantages 
over  the  C|)ristians,  and  at  length  laid  siege  to  the  city  of 
Armorian,  in  Upper  Phrygia.  The  garrison  bravely  defend- 
ed tjie  place  for  a  considerable  time,  and  would  have  obliged 
their  enemies  to  r»  ise  the  siege,  but  the  place  was  betrayed  by 
a  renegado.  Many  were  put  to  the  sword ;  and  two  general 
officers,  with  some  persons  of  distinction,  were  carried  pri- 
soners to  Bagdat,  where  they  were  loaded  with  chains,  and 
thrown"  into  a  dungeon.  They  continued  in  prison*  for  some 
time,  without  seeing  any  persons  but  their  jailers,  or  having 
scarcely  food  enough  for  their  subsistence. 

2.  At  length  they  were  informed,  that  nothing  could  pro- 
serve  their  lives,  but  renouncing  their  religion,  and  embracing 
Mahometanism.  To  induce  them  to  comply,  the  caliph  pre- 
tended zeal  for  their  welfare ;  and  declared,  that  he  looked 
upon  converts  in  a  more  glorious  light  than  conquests. 
Agreeably  to  these  maxims,  he  sent  some  of  the  most  artful 
of  the  Mahometans,  with  money  and  clothes,  and  the  promise 
of  other  advantages,  which  they  might  secure  to  themselves 
by  an  abjuration  of  Christianity ;  which,  according  to  the 
casuistry  of  those  infidels,  might  be  made  without  quitting 
their  faith ;  but  the  martyrs  rejected  the  proposal  with  horror 
and  contempt. 

3.  After  this,  they  were  attacked  with  that  fallacious  and 
delusive  argument,  which  the  Mahometans  still  use  in  favor 
of  themselves,  and  were  desired  to  judge  of  the  merits  of  the 
cause  by  the  success  of  those  that  were  engaged  in  it,  and 

By  whom  was  Armorian  besieged  and  taken  ?— To  what  city  were 
iie  prisoners  carried  captives  i 


MARTYRS  OF  ARMORIAN. 


^hoofse  that  religion  which  they  saw  flourished  moRt,  and  was 
best  rewarded  with  the  good  things  of  this  life,  which  they 
called  the  blessings  of  heaven.  Yet  the  noble  prisoners  were 
proof  against  all  these  temptations ;  and  argued  strenuously 
against  the  authority  of  their  false  prophet.  This  incensed 
the  Mahometans,  and  drew  greater  hardships  upon  the  Chris 
tians  during  their  coififinement,  which  lasted  seven  years. 

4.  Boidizius,  the  renegado  who  had  betrayed  Armorian, 
then  brought  them  the  v/elcome  news  that  their  sufferings 
would  conclude  in  martyrdom  the  next  day :  when  tEikenfrom 
their  dungeon,  they  were  again  solicited  to  embrace  the  te- 
nets of  Mahomet ;  but  neither  threats  nor  promises  could 
induce  them  to  espouse  the  doctrines  of  an  impostor.  Per- 
ceiving that  their  faith  could  not  by  any  means  be  shaken, 
the  caliph  ordered  them  to  be  executed.  Theodore,  one  of 
the  number,  had  formerly  received  priest's  orders,  and  offi- 
ciated as  a  clergyman ;  but  afterwards  quitting  the  churchy 
he  had  followed  a  military  life,  and  raised  himself  by  the 
sword  to  some  considerable  posts,  which  he  enjoyed  at  the 
time  he  was  taken  prisoner. 

5.  The  officer  who  attended  the  execution,  being  apprised 
of  these  circumstanres,  said  to  Theodore, "  You  might,  indeed 
pretend  to  be  ranked  among  the  Christians,  while  you  served 
in  their  church  as  a  priest ;  but  the  profession  you  have  taken 
up,  which  engages  you  in  bloodshed,  is  so  contrary  to  your 
former  employment,  that  you  should  not  now  think  of  passing 
upon  us  for  one  of  that  religion*  When  you  quitted  the  altar 
for  the  camp,  you  renounced  Jesus  Christ*  Why  then  will 
you  dissemble  any  longer  1  Would  you  not  act  more  conforma- 
ble to  your  own  principles,  and  make  your  conduct  all  of  a 
piece,  if  you  came  to  a  resolution  of  saving  your  life  by 
owning  our  great  prophet  1" 

6.  Theodore,  covered  with  religious  confusion  at  this  re^ 
preach,  but  still  unshaken  in  his  faith,-  made  the  following 
answer — "It  is  true,"  says  he,  "I  did  in  some  measure 
abandon  my  God  when  I  engaged  in  the  arniy,  and  scarce 
deserve  the  name  of  a  Christian.  But  the  Almighty  has  givea 
me  grace  to  see  myself  in  the  true  light,  and  made  me  sensible 
of  my  fault ;  and  I  hope  he  will  be  pleased  to  accept  my  life 
as  the  only  sacrifice  I  can  now  offer  to  expiate  my  guilt" 

To  what  profession  had  Theodore  been  educated  F—What  reason 
did  the  officer  assign  for  Theodore's  renouncinjr  Christianity  ? 


iUMi 


MARTYRS  OP  ARMORIAN. 


155 


7.  This  pious  answer  confounded  the  officer,  who  onlj^ 
answered,  that  he  should  presently  have  an  opportunity  of 
giving  that  proof  of  his  fidelity  to  his  Master.  Upon  which 
ThetSore  and  the  rest,  forty-two  in  number,  were  beheaded. 
Two  ladies  of  distinction,  Mary  and  Flora,  suffered  martyr- 
dom at  the  same  time.  Flora  was  the  daughter  of  an  emi- 
nent Mahometan  at  Seville;  from  whence  he  removed  to 
Corduba,  where  the  Saracen  king. resided,  and  kept  his 
court.  Her  father  dying  when  she  was  young,  Flora  was 
left  to  the  care  of  her  mother,  who  being  a  Christian  brought 
her  up  in  the  tru^  faith,  and  inspired  her  with  sentiments  of 
virtue  and  religion. 

8.  Her  brother  being  a  professed  enemy  to  Christianity, 
and  of  a  barbarous  and  savage  temper,  Flora  was  for  some 
time  obliged  to  use  great  caution  in  the  practice  of  such  vir- 
tues as  must  have  exposed  her  to  a  persecution.  She  was 
too  zealous  to  bear  this  restraint  long ;  for  which  reason  she 
left  Corduba,  in  company  with  her  sister.  Her  departure 
soon  alarmed  her  brother,  who  suspected  her  motives,  and, 
in  revenge,  informed  against  several  Christians  of  Corduba ; 
for  as  he  did  not  know  whither  his  sister  was  gone,  he  deter- 
mined to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  such  Christians  as  were 
present. 

9.  When  Flora  was  informed  of  these  proceedings,  she 
considered  herself  as  the  cause  of  what  the  Christians  had 
suffered  at  Corduba,  and  having  an  interior  conviction  that 
God  called  her  to  fight  for  her  faith,  she  returned  ta  that 
city,  and  proceeded  to  the  persecutors,  among  whom  she 
found  her  brother.  *'  If,"  said  our  glorious  martyr,  "  I  am 
the  object  of  your  inquiry ;  if  the  servants  of  God  are  tor- 
mented on  my  account,  I  now  freely  offer  myself  to  your  dis- 
posal. I  declare  that  I  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  glory  in  his 
cross,  and  profess  the  doctrine  which  he  taught."  None  of 
the  company  seemed  so  much  enraged  at  this  declaration  a» 
her  brother,  who,  after  some  threats,  struck  her ;  but  aftei^ 
wards  endeavored  to  gain  her  by  expressions  of  pretended 
kindness. 

10.  Finding  her  insensible  to  all  he  could  say,  he  then  io^- 
formed  against  her.  He  insinuated  that  Flora  had  been  ediK 
cated  in  the  religion  of  Mahomet,  but  had  renounced  it  al 


How  mauy  ■uffered  martyrdem  with  Theodore  P 


im 


MORNING  HYMN 


the  suggestion  of  somd  Christians,  who  inspired  her  wkh  the 
utmost  contempt  for  Jhe  great  prophet.  When  she  was  called 
on  to  answer  to  the  chtrge,  she  declared  she  had  never  owned 
Mahomet,  but  sucked  the  Christian  religion  in  with*  her 
milk,  and  was  entirely  devoted  to  the  Redeemer  of  mankind. 
The  magistrate,  finding  her  resolute,  delivered  her  to  her 
brother,  and  gave  him  orders  to  use  his  utmost  endeavors  to 
make  her  a  Mahometan.  She,  however,  soon  found  an  op-, 
portunity  of  escaping  over  a  wall  in  the  night,  and  of  secret- 
ing herself  in  the  house  of  a  Christian.  She  then  withdrew 
to  Tucci,  a  village  of  Andalusia,  where  she  met  her  sister,  and 
they  never  separated  again  till  her  martyrdom. 


te 


W' 


ml 


MORNING  HYMN. 

!•  These  are  thy  glorious  works.  Parent  of  good       / 
Almighty  ;  thine  this  universal  frame. 
Thus  wondrous  fair  ;  Thyself  how  wondrous  then  ! 
Unspeakable,  who  sitt*st  above  these  heav'ns, 
To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 
In  these,  thy  lowest  works  ;  yet  thv3e  declare 
Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  power  divine. 
Speak,  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light. 
Angels,  for  ye  behold  him,  and  with  songs 
And  choral  symphonies,  day  without  night, 
Circle  his  throne  rejoicing ;  ye  in  heaven. 
On  earth,  join  all  ye  creatures  to  extol 
Him  first,  Him  last.  Him  midst,  and  without  end. 
Fairest  of  stars,  last  in  the  train  of  night, 
If  better  thou  belong  not  to  the  dawn. 
Sure  pledge  of  day,  that  crown'st  the  smiling  morn 
With  thy  bright  circlet,  praise  Him  in  thy  sphere. 
While  day  arises,  that  sweet  hour  of  prime. 

2.  Thou  sun,  of  this  great  world  both  eye  and  soul, 
Acknowledge  him  thy  greater,  sound  his  praise 
In  thy  eternal  course,  £)th  when  thou  climb'st, 
And  when  high  noon  hast  gainM,  and  when  thou  fall'st 
Moon,  that  now  meet'st  the  orient  sun,  now  fly'st, 
With  the  fix'd  stars,  fix*d  in  their  orb  that  flies, 
And  ye  fivo  other  wandVing  fires,  that  move 


iiii 


SIEGE  OF  CALAIS.  157 

In  mystic  dance,  not  without  song  resound    • 

His  praise,  who  out  of  darkness  call'd  up  light 

Air,  and  ye  elements,  the  eldest  birth 

Of  nature's  womb,  that  in  quaternion  run 

Perpetual  circle,  multiform,  and  mix, 

And  nourish  all  things,  let  your  ceaseless  change  ' 

Vary  to  our  great  Maker  still  new  praise. 

Ye  mists  and  exhalations,  that  now  rise 

From  hili  or  streaming  lake,  dusky  or  grey^ 

Till  the  sun  paint  your  fleecy  skirts  with  gold, 

In  honor  to  the  world's  great  Author  rise, 

Whether  to  deck  whh  clouds  th'  uncolor'd  sky, 

Or  wet  the  thirsty  earth  with  falling  showers, 

Rising  or  falling,  still  advance  his  praise. 

3.  His  praise,  ye  winds,  that  from  four  quarters  bloii 
Breathe  soft  or  loud ;  and  wave  your  tops,  ye  pines. 
With  every  plant,  in  sign  of  worship  wave. 
Fountains,  and  ye  that  warble  as  ye  flow. 
Melodious  murmurs,  warbling  tune  his  praise. 
Join  voices  all,  ye  living  souls  ;  ye  birds. 
That  singing  up  to  heaven's  gate  ascend. 
Bear  on  your  wings,  and  in  your  notes,  his  praise. 
Ye  that  in  waters  glide,  and  ye  that  walk 
The  earth,  and  stately  tread,  or  lowly  cree^>, 
Witness,  if  I  be  silent,  morn  or  even, 
To  hill  or  valley,  fountain,  or  fresh  shade, 
Made  vocal  by  my  song,  and  taught  his  praise. 
Hail,  universal  Lord  !  be  bounteous  still, 
To  give  us  only  good ;  and,  if  the  night 
Have  gather'd  aught  of  evil,  or  conceal'd, 
Disperse  it,  as  now  light  dispels  the  dark. 


iul, 
rall'si. 


SIEGE  OF  CALAIS. 

I.  Edward  III.,  after  the  battle  of  Cressy,  in  the  year 
1347,  laid  siege  to  Calais.  He  had  fortified  his  camp  in  so 
impregnable  a  manner,  that  all  the  efibrts  of  France  proved 
ineffectual  to  raise  the  siege  or  throw  succors  into  the  city. 

When  did  Edward  III.  beiieffe  Calaii  i* 
16  * 


MMiHl 


w^ 


168 


SIEGE  OF  CALAIS. 


ma 


The  citizens^  under  count  Vienna,  their  gallant  governor, 
made  an  admirable  defence.  France  had  now  put  the  sickle 
into  her  second  harvest,  since  Edward,  with  his  victorious 
army,  sat  down  before  the  town.  The  eyes  of  all  Europe 
were  intent  on  the  issue.  At  length  faro  in  '  did  more  for 
Edward  than  arms.  After  suffering  unheard  of  calamities, 
they  resolved  to  attempt  the  enemy's  camp.  They  boldly 
rallied  forth  ;  the  English  joined  battle ;  and  after  a  long  and 
desperate  engagement,  count  Vienne  was  taken  prisoner, 
and  the  citizens  who  survived  the  slaughter  retired  within 
their  gates.  The  command  devolving  upon  Eustace  St. 
Pierre,  a  man  of  mean  birth  but  exalted  virtue,  he  offered  to 
capitulate  with  l^dward,  provided  he  permitted  him  to  depart 
with  life  and  liberty. 

2.  Edward,  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  cruelty,  consented 
to  spare  the  bulk  of  the  plebeians,  provided  they  delivered 
up  to  him  six  of  their  principal  citizens,  with  hdters  about 
their  necks,  as  victims  of  due  atonement  for  that  spirit  of  re- 
bellion with  which  they  had  inflamed  the  vulgar.     When,  his 
mp<Jscnger,  Sir  Walter  Mauny,  delivered  the  terms,  conster- 
nation and  pale  dismay  were  impressed  on  every  countenance. 
To  a  long  and  dead  silence,  deep  sighs  and  groans  succeed- 
ed, till  Eustace  St.  Pierre,  getting  up  to  a  little  eminence, 
thus  addressed  the  assembly :— *•  My  friends,  we  are  brought 
to  great  straits  this  day.     We  must  either  yield  to  the  terms 
of  our  cruel  and  unsparing  conqueror,  or  give  up  our  tender 
infants,  our  wives  and  daughters,  to  the  bloody  and  brutal 
lusts  of  the  violating  soldiers.     Is  there  any  expedient  left, 
whereby  we  may  avoid  the  guilt  and  infamy  of  delivering  up 
those  who  have  suffered  every  misery  with  you,  on  the  one 
hand—or  the  desolation  and  horror  of  a  sacked  city  on  the 
other  7 .  There  is,  ray  friends,  there  is  one  expedient  left— a 
gracious,  an  excellent,  a  godlike  expedient !    Is  there  any 
here  to  whom  virtue  is  dearer  than  life  ? — Let  him  offer  him- 
self an  oblation  for  the  safety  of  his  people  !    He  shall  not 
fail  of  a  blessed  approbntjon  from  that  Power,  who  offered 
up  his  only  Son  for  the  salvation  of  mankind!" 


Under  whose  command  was  the  town  defended  ? — On  whom  did  it 
devolve,  when  Vienne  was  taken  prisoner  ^ — On  what  condition  did 
Edward  consent  to  raise  the  siege  '' 


RTEGE  OP  CALAIS. 


159 


ernor, 
sickle 
torious 
Europe 
ore  for 
imitiea, 
'  boldly 
mg  and 
risoner, 
within 
taoe  St. 
ffered  to 
;o  depart 

onsented 
delivered 
ers  about 
iritofre- 
When  his 
J,  coRster- 
ntenance. 
5  succeed- 
sminence, 
e  brought 
the  terms 
>ur  tender 
nd  brutal 
[dient  left, 
ivering  up 
,n  the  one 
ity  on  the 
jnt  left— a 
there  any 
offer  him- 
shall  not 
rho  offered 


|\7hom  did  it 
sondition  d\A 


3.  He  spoke — -but  an  universal  silcnco  enm^d.  Each 
man  looked  around  for  the  example  of  that  magnanimity  and 
virtue,  which  all  wished  to  approve  in  themselves,  though 
they  wanted  the  resolution.  At  length  St.  Pierre  resumed — 
*'  I  doubt  not  but  there  are  many  here,  as  ready,  nay,  more 
zealous  of  this  martyrdom,  than  t  can  be  ;  though  the  sta> 
lion  to  which  I  am  raised,  by  the  <;aptivity  of  lord  Vicnne, 
imparts  a  right  to  be  the  first  in  giving  my  life  for  your  sakes. 
I  give  it  fteely — 1  give  it  cheerfully.  Who  comes  next  ?" — 
Five  others,  equally  patriotic,  soon  followed  his  example. 
These  six  self-devoted  victims  then  went  out  of  the  town 
bare-footed,  with  halters  about  their  necks,  and  presented 
the  keys  to  Sir  Walter.  He  took  the  prisoners  into  his  cus- 
tody;  then  ordered  the  gates  to  be  opened,  and  gave  charge 
to  his  attendants  to  conduct  the  remaining  citizens,  with 
their  families,  through  the  camp  of  the  English. 

4.  Before  they  departed,  however,  they  desired  permission 
to  take  their  last  adieu  of  their  deliverers. — ^What  a  parting  ! 
What  a  scene  !  They  crowded,  with  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, about  St.  Pierre  and  his  fellow  prisoners.  They  em- 
braced— they  clung  around — they  fell  prostrate  before  them. 
They  groaned,  they  wept  aloud^ — and  the  joint  clamor  of 
their  mourning  passed  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  was  heard 
throughout  the  English  camp.  The  English,  by  this  time, 
were  apprised  of  what  passed  within  Calais.  They  heard 
the  voice  of  lamentation,  and  their  souls  were  touched  with 
compassion.  Each  of  the  soldiers  prepared  a  portion  of  his 
own  victuals,  to  welcome  and  entertain  the  half  famished 
inhabitants  ;  and  they  loaded  them  with  as  much  as  their 
present  weakness  was  able  to  bear,  in  order  to  supply  them 
with  sustenance  by^  the  way.  At  length  St.  Pierre  and  his 
fellow  victims  appeared  under  the  conduct  of  Sir  Walter  and 
a  giiard.  All  tlie  tents  of  the  English  were  instantly  empti- 
ed. The  soldiers  poured  from  all  parts,  and  arranged  them- 
selves on  each  side,  to  behold,  to  contemplate,  to  admire  this 
little  band  of  patriots  as  they  passed.  They  bowed  down  to 
them  on  all  sides.  They  murmured  their  applause  of  that 
virtue,  which  they  could  not  but  revere,  even  in  enemies; 
apd  they  regarded  those  ropes  which  they  had  voluntarily 


Who  firit  ofibred  himielf  a  caerifice  to  save  hia  fellow  citizena? 


I 


160 


SIEGE  OF  CALAIS. 


iiMm 


'il,': 


assumed  about  their  necks,  as  ensigns  of  greater  dignity  than 
that  of  the  British  garter. 

6.  As  soon  as  they  reached  his  presence,  "  Mauny,"  says 
the  monairch,  "  are  these  the  principxJ  ir.iiLbJtants  of  Ca- 
laisT* — "They  are,"  says  Mauriy — "they  are  not  only  the 
principal  men  of  Calais — ^they  are  the  principal  men  of 
France,  my  lord,  if  virtue  has  any  share  in  the  act  of  enno- 
bling." "Were  they  delivered  peaceably?"  says  Edward. 
"  Was  there  no  resistance,  no  commotion  among  the  peo- 
ple 1"  **  Not  in  the  least,  my  lord ;  the  people  would  all  have 
perished,  rather  than  have  delivered  the  least  of  these  to 
your  majesty.  They  are  self-delivered,  self-devoted;  and 
come  to  offer  up  their  inestimable  heads,  as  an  ample  equi- 
valent for  the  ransom  of  thousands."  Edward  was  secretly 
piqued  at  this  reply  of  Sir  Walter.  But  he  knew  the  privi- 
lege of  a  British  subject,  and  suppressed  his  resentment. 
**  Experience,"  says  he,  "has  ever  shown,  that  lenity  only 
serves  to  invite  people  to  new  crimes.  Severity,  at  times,  is 
indispensably  necessary,  to  compel  subjects  to  submission,  by 
punishment  and  example.  Go,"  he  cried  to  an  officer,  "lead 
these  men  to  execution."  ' 

6.  At  this  instant  a  sound  of  triumph  was  heard  through- 
out the  camp.  The  queen  had  just  arrived  with  a  powerful 
reinforcement  of  g^allant  troops.  Sir  Walter  Mauny  flew  to 
receive  her  majesty,  and  briefly  informed  her«f  the  particu- 
lars respecting  the  six  victims.  As  soon  as  she  had  been 
welcomed  by  Edward  and  his  court,  she  desired  a  private 
audience.  **  My  lord,"  said  she,  "  the  question  I  am  to  enter 
upon,  is  not  touching  the  lives  of  a  few  mechanics — it  re- 
spects the  honor  of  the  English  nation ;  it  respects  the  glory 
of  my  Edward,  my  husband,  my  king.  You  think  you  have 
sentenced  six  of  your  enemies  to  death.  No,  my  lord,  they 
have  sentenced  themselves ;  and  their  execution  would  be 
the  execution  of  their  own  orders,  not  the  orders  of  Edward. 
The  stage  on  which  they  would  suffer,  would  he  to  them  a 
stage  of  honor,  but  a  stage  of  shame  to  Edward  ;  a  reproach 
on  his  conquests ;  an  indelible  disgrace  to  his  name.  Let  us 
rather  disappoint  these  haughty  burghers,  who  wish  to  invest 
themselves  with  glory  at  our  expense.  We  cannot  wholly 
deprive  them  of  the  merit  of  a  sacrifice  so  nobly  intended, 
but  we  may  cut  them  short  6f  their  desires ;  in  the  place  of 
that  death  by  which  their  glory  would  be  consummated,  let  us 


UNCERTAINTY  OF  THE  WORLD. 


161 


than 

Bays 

Ca- 
y  the 
n  of 
3nno- 
vvard. 

peo- 
Ihave 
Bse  to 
;  and 

equi- 
jcretly 
J  privi- 
itment. 
y  only 
mes,  is 
jion,  by 
,  *Mead 

hrough- 
owerful 

flew  to 
particu- 

id  been 

private 

,0  enter 
-it  re- 

a  have 
pi,  they 
jrould  be 
idward. 
g  them  a 
leproach 
\  Letus 
[o  invest 
I  whofe 
[itendiBd, 
nlace  of 
Ed,  let  us 


bury  them  under  gifts,  let  us  put  them  to  confusion  with  ap- 
plauses. We  shall  thereby  defeat  them  of  that  popular  opi- 
nion, which  never  fails  to  attend  those  who  suffer  in  the  cause 
of  virtue." 

"  I  am  convinced ;  you  have  prevailed ;  be  it  so ;"  repliei' 
Edward.  "  Prevent  the  execution  ;  have  them  instantly  be 
fore  us."  They  came ;  when  the  queen,  with  an  aspect  am 
accents  diffusing  sweetness,  thus  bespoke  them — "Natives 
of  France,  and  inhabitants  of  Calais,  you  have  put  us  to  vast 
expense  of  blood  and  treasure  in  the  recovery  of  our  just  and 
natural  inheritance  ;  but  you  have  acted  up  to  the  best  of  an 
erroneous  judgment ;  and  we  admire  and  honor  in  you  that 
valor  and  virtue,  by«which  we  are  so  long  kept  out  of  our 
rightful  possessions.  We  loose  youi;  chains  ;  we  snatch  you 
from  the  scaffold.  You  are  now  free  to  depart  to  your  kins- 
folk, :your  countrymen,  to  all  whose  lives  and  liberties  yoU 
have  ^  nobly  redeemed,  provided  you  refuse  not  the  tokend 
of  our  esteem.  Yet  we  would  rather  bind  you  to  ourselves 
by  every  endearing  obligation ;  and  for  this  purpose,  we  of- 
fer to  you  your  ohoice  of  the  gifts  and  honors  that  Edward 
has  to  bestow.  Clivals  for  fame,  but  alwayfe  friends  to  virtue, 
we  wish  that  England  were  entitled  to  call  you  her  sons." — 
♦'  Ah,  my  country  !"  exclaimed  St.  Pierre ;  "  it  is  now  that 
I  tremble  for  you.  Ed  ward,  only  wins  our  cities — but  Phi 
lippa  conquers  heahs."  ' 


\  UNCERTAINTY  OF  THE  WORLD. 

1.  Self-flatter'd,  unexperienced,  high  in  hope, 
When  young,  with  sanguine  cheer,  and  streamers  gay, 
We  cut  our  cable,  launch  into  the  world, 
And  fondly  dream  each  wind  and  star  our  friend ; 
All,  in  some  darling  enterprise  embarkM — 
And  where  is  he,  can  fathom  its  extent  1 
Amid  a  multitude  of  artless  hands, 
Ruin*s  sure  perquisite !  her  lawful  pri^e ! 
Some  steer  aright ;  but  the  black  blast  blows  hard, 
And  puffs  them  wide  of  hope — with  hearts  of  proof, 


Through  whose  influence  were  the  six  prieonere  ipared  ? 
15* 


163      MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY. 


mi* 


Full  against  wind  and  tide,  some  win  their  way ; 
And  when  strong  effort  has  deservM  the  port, 
And  tugg'd  it  into  view,  'tis  won  !  *tis  lost ! 
Though  strong  their  oar,  still  stronger  is  their  late— 
They  strike ;  and  while  they  triumph,  they  expire. 

2.  In  stress  of  weather  most ;  some  sink  outright ; 
O'er  them,  and  o'er  their  names,  the  billows  close ; 
To-morrow  knows  not  that  they  e'er  were  born. 
Others,  a  short  memorial  leave  behind. 
Like  a  flag  floating,  when  the  bark's  ingulf 'd  ; 
It  floats  a  moment,  and  is  seen  no  more — 
One  Cflesar  lives ;  a  thousand  are  forgot.  * 
How  few,  beneath  auspicious  planets  born, 
(Darlings  of  Providence  !  fond  fate's  elect !) 
With  swelling  sails  make  good  the  promis'd  port, 
With  all  their  wishes  freighted  ! — Yet  e'en  these, 
Freighted  with  all  their  wishes,  soon  complain  ; 
Free  from  misfortune,  not  from  nature  free, 
They  still  are  men  ;  and  when  is  man  secure  T 
As  fatal  timet  as  storm  !  the  rush  of  years 
Beats  down  their  strength  ;  their  numberlebs  escapes 
In  ruin  eiid>— And,  now,  their  proud  success 
But  plants  new  terrors  on  the  victor's  brow — 
What  pain  to  quit  t}\e  world,  just  made  their  own, 
Their  nest  so  deeply  down'd,  and  buUt  so  high ! 
Too  low  they  build,  who  buUd  beneath  the  stars. 


MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY. 

L  Christian  II.,  the  Nero  of  the  north,  entering  into  an 
insidious  negotiation  with  the  Swedes,  oflered  to  go  in  per- 
son to  Stockholm,  in  order  to  confer  with  the  regent,  provid- 
ed that  six  persons,  whom  he  should  name,  were  delivered  as 
hostages  for  his  safety.  This  proposal  being  accepted,  Gus- 
tavus  Vasa,  a  descendant  of  the  ancient  kings  of  Sweden, 
with  Ave  others  of  the  principal  nobility,  were  sent  on  board 


By  what  name  is  Christian  11.  sometimes  called  ? — Who  is  Gusta* 

vus  Vasa  ? 


MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY.      16a 


Ig  into  an 
ro  in  per- 
ft,  provid- 
livered  as 
fted,  Gus- 
Sweden, 
on  board 


[o  ii  GuiU' 


the  Danish  fleet.  The  perfidious  Christian  immediately  car* 
ried  them  prisoners  to  Denmark,  and  returning  the  following 
year,  with  a  more  powerful  armament,  invaded  Gothland,  and 
wasted  the  country  with  fire  and  sword.  The  regent  of  Swe- 
den bcin^  killed  in  an  ambuscade,  and  the  senate  divided  os 
the  choice  of  a  successor,  the  Danish  king,  taking  advantage 
of  their  dissensions,  advanced  to  Stockholm,  which  surrender- 
ed  at  his  approach.  Gustavus  TroUe,  the  primate,  now  placed 
the  crown  of  Sweden  on  the  head  of  the  Danish  monarch. 

2.  This  coronation  was  followed  by  oiie  of  the  most  horrid 
transactions  recorded  in  history.  Christian  had  promised  a 
general  amnesty ;  and  repairing  to  the  cathedral,  swore  on 
the  altar  of  the  Supreme  Being,  that  he  would  govern  Swe- 
den, not  with  the  severity  of  a  conqueror^  but  the  benevolence 
of  a  father.  After  this  ceremony,  he  invited  the  senators 
and  grandees  to  a  sumptuous  entertainment,  that  lasted  three 
days,  but  concluded  in  the  most  tragical  manner.  The 
king  and  the  primate  had  formed  the  horrid  design  of  extir- 
pating the  Swedish  nobility;  and,  in  order  to  afford  some 
pretext  for  their  intended  massacre,  the  archbishop,  on  the 
last  day  of  the  feast,  reminded  the  king,  that  the  amnesty 
accorded  to  crimes  against  the  state,  did  not  include  those 
committed  against  the  church,  and  demanded  justice  in  the 
name  of  the  popi^.  The  hall  was  immediately  filled  with 
soldiers,  who  secured  the  guests.  The  primate  proceeded 
against  them  as  heretics.  A  scaffold  wad  erected  before  the 
gate  of  the  palace,  and  ninety-four  persons  of  the  first  dis- 
tinction, among  whom  was  Eric,  the  father  of  Gustavus 
Vasa,  were  executed,  for  no  other  crime  than  that  of  defend- 
ing their  country. 

3.  This  nefarious  transaction  took  place  in  the  year  .1520, 
which  was  soon  followed  by  the  deliverance  of  Sweden  from 
Danish  oppression.  Promises  and  threats  were  made  use 
of  to  reconcile  Gustavus  Vasa  to  the  despotic  authority  of 
Christian,  but  in  vain ;  and  the  king,  dreading  his  valor  and 
constancy,  gave  orders  to  strangle  him  in  prison.  But  Eric 
Banner^a  Danish  nobleman,  who  was  charged  with  that  de- 

**■*———■  I  I    ■■         ■»■  IIMII        ■■■■■—■—       ■■     ■»    ^»M.»lfc    ■    ■■    ■■■■■*-MlWM»^—— — — ■^MW— *»^i— b— ^.^M^— — — PM— ■■,WJtMi> 

Wfi^  cdme  he  at  Denmark,  a  prisoner  or  hostage  ? — Who  crowned 
Christian  II.  king  of  Sweden  ? — Under  what  pretence  was  this  mur- 
der committed  ? — How  many  of  the  Swedish  nobles  did  Christian  mur* 
der  ? — When  was  it  ? 


Mta^nMBHl 


■^^r 


liiH': 


I  iili 


104     MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBIUTY. 

testable  conimission,  instead  of  executing  it.  obtained  its 
revocation  ;  and  held  forth  the  hope,  that  he  should  be  able 
to  inspire  the  youth  with  a  favorable  disposition  to  the  go- 
vernment of  Christian.  He  was,  therefore,  allowed  to  take 
him  into  custody,  on  condition  of  his  keeping  him  a  prisoner 
in  the  fortress  of  Calo,  in  Jutland,  and  paying  six  thousand 
crowns,  if  he  should  make  his  escape. 

4.  The  noble  qualities  of  Gustavus  gained  the  esteem  of 
Banner  and  of  the  whole  family,  and  he  was  not  long  at  Calo 
before  he  received  permission  to  walk  about  and  hunt  for  his 
diversion.  New  recreations  and  amusements  were  every  day 
proposed,  and  all  the  neighboring  country  endeavored  to  en- 
tertain the  stranger.  But  nothing  could  make  him  forget 
that  he  was  a  prisoner ;  nor  could  all  the  civilities  he  received 
compensate  the  chagrin  he  experienced  at  being  deprived  of 
his  liberty.  Restraint,  however,  became  more  painful,  and 
the  desire  of  escape  more  powerful,  from  the  moment  he  re- 
ceived information  of  the  massacre  at  Stockholm,  in  which 
his  i'ather  and  most  of  his  relatives  had  been  involved. 

5.  Convinced  that  every  expedient  ought  to  be  attempted 
for  procuring  his  liberty,  which  might  be  the  means  of  res- 
cuing his  country  from  destruction,  Gustavus  mounted  his 
horse  according  to  custom,  under  pretence  of  going  to  the 
cliase,  plunged  deep  into  the  forest,  and,  having  arrived  at  a 
pi'bper  distance,  assumed  the  garb  of  a  pe&sant.  Having 
quitted  his  horse,  after  a  march  of  two  days  through  almost 
impracticable  paths,  and  over  mountains,  he  arrived  at  Flens- 
burgh,  the  last  town  on  the  Danish  frontier,  into  which  no 
person  was  admitted  without  a  passport.  Fortunately,  how- 
evei",  at  that  season  of  the  year,  the  merchants  of  Lower 
Saxony  carried  on  a  considerable  trade  in  cattle,  which  they 
purchased  in  Jutland.  Gustavus  hired  himself  to  onq^  of  those 
merchants,  and  presenting  himself  to  the  governor  as  a  dealer, 
Wa^  suffered  to  pass  unmolested  to  Lubec. 

6.  Banner,  was  no  sooner  informed  of  the  escape  of  hia 
prisoner,  than  following  him  with  the  greatest  diligence,  he 
overtook  him  at  Lubec,  and  reproached  him  with  a  breach 
of  confidence.  Gustavus  pleaded  the  existing  circumstances 
as  an  apology,  appeased  his  late  host  by  promising  to  indem- 
nify him  in  the  loss  of  his  ransom,  and  without  delay,  departgft 


Mow  did  Guptavus  Vasa  escape  from  his  keeper  Eric  Banner  ? 


l\:i 


MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY. 


166 


ned  ita 
be  able 
the  go- 
to take 
)risoner 
lousand 

eom  of 
at  Calo 
t  for  his 
ery  day 
d  to  eu- 
1  forget 
eceived 
rived  of 
ful,  and 
it  he  re- 
1  which 
d. 
tempted 

of  res- 

nted  his 

r  to  the 

ved  at  a 

Having 

almost 
,t  Flens- 
rhich  no 
ly,  how- 
f  Lower 
ich  they 
of  those 
El  dealer, 

le  of  hja 
;nce,  he 
1  breach 
nstances 
>  indem- 
depart|ft 

inner  ? 


for  Sweden,  though  he  knew  that  orders  had  been  every 
where  given  in  that  kingdom  to  seize  and  arrest  him.  The 
first  town  where  h^  made  himself  known  was  Calmar,  which 
nad  belonged  to  the  late  regent,  whose  widow  still  lived  in  i 
with  her  children,  and  a  German  garrison.  Those  mercenary 
soldiers  only  held  the  place  for  their  own  purposes,  and  were 
actually  in  treaty  with  the  emissaries  of  Christian  to  deliver 
up  the  city.  Gustavus  assailed  them  with  arguments,  and  tol 
them  that  at  the  hazard  of  his  life  he  had  made  his  esca[ 
to  Calmar,  in  order  to  have  the  glory  of  participating  wit 
them  in  the  difficulties  and  dangers  of  resisting  a  tyrant,  an 
of  maintaining  and  defending  the  liberty  of  their  country 
which  must  be  grateful  to  brave  and  generous  minds.  Theyj! 
asked  him  where  were  his  resources^  his  army,  his  treasures 
and,  on  his  remaining  silent,  they  called  him  a  madman,  an 
threatened  to  apprehend  him. 

7.  Disappointed  in  the  expectations  he  had  formed 
gaining  those  soldiers  to  his  purpose,  Gustavus  retired  fro: 
the  city  with  great  expedition ;  and  his  arrival  being  nov 
publicly  known,  he  was  again  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  th< 
garb  of  a  peasant,  in  order  to  conceal  himself  from  the  Da 
nish  emissaries.  He  was,  nevertheless,  on  the  point  of  bein 
seized,  when  he  escap'id  in  a  wagon  of  hay,  and  sough 
shelter  in  a  retired  spot,  where  stood  an  ancient  castle  be 
longing  to  his  family.  From  thence  he  wrote  to  his  friends 
informing  them  of  his  return,  and  requesting  them  to  assem 
ble  a  force  for  expelling  the  tyrant ;  but  they  refused  to  unj 
dertake  so  hazardous  and  desperate  an  attempt.  They  wer 
no  longer  the  bold  and  intrepid  Swedes,  jealous  of  their  lil 
berty,  and  the  enemies  of  tyranny  and  oppression.  T! 
terrot  e'^.citc  \  by  the  massacre  at  Stockholm,  had  frozen  u 
their  conragf^. 

8.  ?.  fceiving,  therefore,  that  mean  selfishness  had  sup| 
planted  public  spirit  among  his  friends,  Gustavus  applied  U 
the  peasants ;  who  being  a  bold  and  independent  race  o 
men,  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  indignation  of  Christia 
and  who,  he  hoped,  would  embrace  with  ardor  the  opport 
nity  of  expelling  the  tyrant,  and  deliveri.  g  their  countr 
In  vain  did  he  mingle  with  thetn,  range  through  their  vi 
lages,   assist   at   their   assemblies   and    repasts,    harang 
them,  and  stimulate  them  to  shake  off  the  yoke.     They  a 
»wer«d,  "Under  the  government  of  the  king  of  Denmar 


■pnpp 


fq 


Mi 


i'?'^^ 


V«  ,'i 


srr'^'- 


166      MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY. 

we  have  salt  and  herrings.  Whatever  may  be  the  success 
of  a  revolution,  we  cannot  be  othevwise  than  poor.  Feasants 
we  are ;  ar<d  peasants  we  must  remain,  whoever  is  king  of 
Sweden.** 

d.  Repulsed  in  that  quarter,  he  determined  to  proceed  to 
Dalecarlia,  where,  if  he  failed  in  the  attempt  of  exciting  the 
inhabitants  to  revolt,  he  could  live  securely  in  the  high  moun- 
tains and  thick  forests  of  that  country.  Attended,  therefore, 
by  a  peasant,  to  whom  he  was  known,  he  travelled  in  dis- 
guise ;  and,  after  a  laborious  and  painful  journey,  arrived  in 
the  mountains  of  Dale6arlia,  where  he  was  deserted  by  his 
companion  and  guide,  who  robbed  him  of  all  the  money  he 
had  provided  for  bis  subsistence.  Destitute  and  in  want,  in 
a  strange  place,  unknowing  and  unknown,  he  was  urged  by 
the  call  of  hunger,  and  entered  among  the  miners,  with 
whom  he  wrought  to  earn  a  ^iiiaintenance.  Under  the  habit 
of  a  peasant,  a  woman  in  the  mijies  perceived  a  fine  embroi- 
dered shirt,  which  induced  her  to  suspect  that  he  was  some 
man  of  distinguished  rank,  whom  persecution  had  driven  to 
seek  an  asylum  in  those  caverns.  The  conjecture  was  re- 
ported to  a  neighboring  gentleman,  who,  prompted  by  curi- 
osity, repaired  to  the  mine  to  offer  protection  to  the  unfortu- 
nate stranger.  On  approaching,  he  recognized  Gustavus, 
with  whom  he  had  been  acquainted  at  the  university  of  Up- 
sal.  Prudence  obliged  him  to  conceal  his  astonishment ; 
but  at  night  he  sent  to  him,  made  him  an  offer  of  his  house, 
and  gave  him  the  strongest  assurances  of  his  friendship  and 
protection. 

10.  Gustavus  embraced  with  joy  the  offer  of  his  generous 
friend,  who  informed  him  the  Dalecarlians  bore  vith  impa- 
tience the  Danish  yoke  :,  that  they  were  attach  :d  to  the 
family  of  their  ancient  sovereigns ;  and  that  great  were  the 
means  of  attack  and  defence,  furnished  by  the  nature  of  the 
country  and  the  courage  of  the  inhabitants.  The  frequent 
repetition  of  this  convecgation  encouraged  Gustavus  to  dis- 
close his  designs  to  his  friend,  who  was  no  sooner  informed 
of  the  intentions  of  the  fugitive  youth,  than  he  endeavored 
to  dissuade  him  from  his  purpose,  by  representing  to  him,  in 
the  strongest  light,  the  danger  and  difficulty  of  such  an  e^^ 
terprise.  Gustavus  neither  believed  the  hospitable  Dalecar- 
lian  a  friend  to  the  Danes,  nor  did  he  think  him  capable  of 
betraying  him.     But  not  wishing  to  disturb  the  Win  of  a  quiet 


A  J 


MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY*      167 


and  peaceable  man,  he  departed ;  and  trusting  to  his  own 
good  fortune,  took  his  way  without  a  guide,  through  forests 
and  over  mountains,  and  arrived  safe  at  the  house  of  a  noble- 
man named  Peterson,  with  whom  he  had  formerly  been  ac- 
quainted in  the  army. 

11.  Peterson  received  him  with  marks  of  respect  and  es- 
teem, listened  with  every  appearance  of  lively  interest  to  the 
recital  of  his  misfortunes,  seemed  more  affected  by  them  than 
Gustavus  himself,  exclaimed  against  the  tyranny  of  the  Danes, 
and  entered  into  his  projects  with  apparent  ardor  and  enthu- 
siasm. This  perfidious  wretch  named  the  nobles  and  peasants 
on  whom  he  could  depend ;  and  having  become  acqviainted 
with  the  designs  of  Gustavus,  privately  went  to  a  Darish 
officer,  and,  in  the  hope  of  a  rich  recompense,  communicated 
to  him  the  projects  and  retreat  of  his  guest.  The  Dane 
hastened  to  Peterson's  house,  which  he  surrounded  with  sol- 
diers ;  but  Providence  watched  over  the  preservation  of  the 
fugitive  patriot.  Peterson's  wife,  moved  with  compassion, 
had  opportunely  apprised  him  of  the  perfidy  of  her  husband, 
and  committed  him  to  the  care  of  a  faithful  servant,  who 
conducted  him  to  the  house  of  a  neighboring  clergyman. 

12.  That  ecclesiastic  was  a  person  who  attentively  studied 
mankind,  reflected  on  public  affairs,  observed  the  course  of 
events,  aspired  to  no  preferment,  and  was  attached  to  no 
party.  He  received  Gustavus  with  respect  and  tenderness, 
and  assured  him  of  his  honor  and  secrecy.  Far  from  being 
terrified  by  the  project  which  the  youthful  hero  entertained 
of  opposing  the  power  of  Denmark,  he  traced  out  the  path 
which  was  to  lead  him  to  ultimate  success.  '*  You  must 
not,"  said  he,  endeavor  to  gain  over  to  your  party,  the  no- 
bles, who  are  most  of  them  satisfied  with  the  security  and 
independence  which  they  enjoy  in  the  mountains,  and  who 
take  little  concern  in  the  revolutions  that  happen  at  court. 
It  will  be  difficult  to  prevail  on  them  to  arm  tJieir  vassals, 
because  their  wealth  entirely  depends  on  the  number  and  in- 
dustry of  that  body  of  men,  whose  labors  will  be  suspended 
by  a  war.  But  the  most  certain  means  of  obtaining  the  end 
proposed,  will  be  to  induce  the  vassals  to  take  up  arms  of 

eir  own  accord." 

13.  In  order  to  prepare  matters  for  that  crisis,  the  clergy- 
man I  idertook  to  propagate  a  report,  that  the  Danes  were 
preparing  to  enter  the  province  to  establisli  new  taxes  bv 


i.-    I 


.t  'J 


168      MASSACRE  OF  SWEDISH  NOBILITY. 

force  Qf  arms.  He  employed  his  relatives  and  friends  to 
ctlseeminate  the  alarming  intelligence ;  and  when  he  was 
convinced  that  the  public  mind  was  sufficiently  impressed  with 
the  idea,  he  advised  Gustavus  to  repair  to  Mora,  where  all 
the  peasants  of  the  surrounding  district  were  wont  to  assem- 
ble annually  at  a  public  feast.  "  Never,"  said  this  sensible 
man,  "  are  the  vassals  more  bold,  or  more  inclined  to  revolt, 
than  at  the  times  of  those  meetings,  when  they  estimate  their 
strength  by  their  number."  Agreeably  to  the  advice  of  this 
honest  and  sage  counsellor,  the  young  hero  departed  fof 
Mora;  and  on  his  arrival,  found  the  peasants  prepared  for 
his  reception,  and  impatient  to  see  a  nobleman  illustrious  foi 
his  birth,  his  valor,  and  his  sufferings. 

14.  He  appeared  in  the  assembly  with  an  air  of  intrepidity 
and  resolution,  tempered  by  a  mixture  of  melancholy  Wihich 
was  naturally  excited  by  the  death  of  his  father  and  the  other 
senators.  The  gazing  multitude  were  instantly  touched  with 
compassion.  But,  when  he  spoke  to  them  of  the  horrible 
massacre  at  Stockholm,  of  the  tyranny  of  Christian,  of  the 
persecution  of  the  provinces,  and  of  the  miseries  of  the 
kingdom  in  general,  the  assembly  was  inflamed  with  indig- 
nation, exclaimed  against  the  Danes,  and  vowed  to  revenge 
the  death  of  their  countrymen  with  the  last  drop  of  their 
blood.  They  immediately  resolved  to  renounce  their  allegi- 
ance to  Christian,  and  to  sacrifice,  without  distinction,  all 
the  Danes  in  the  province,  as  an  atonement  for  the  massacre 
of  the  Swedes.  Gustavus  took  advantage  of  their  kindled 
ardor,  assembledv  around  him  the  most  determined  of  his 
hearers,  attacked  the  castle  in  which  resided  the  governor, 
who  was  unprepared  for  making  resistance,  took  it  by  assault, 
and  put  to  the  sword  the  commandant  and  all  his  Danes. 

15.  In  a  few  days,  the  whole  province  declared  in  favor 
of  Gustavus ;  the  peasants  flocked  in  crowds  to  his  standard ; 
and,  from  that  moment,  the  life  of  this  young  hero  was  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  triumphs  and  success.  At  the  head 
of  the  brave  Dalecarlians,  he  Undertook  the  most  perilous 
enterprises  of  war  ;  and  his  efforts  were  invariably  crowned 
with  victory.  Being  engaged  in  besieging  Stockholm,  wliich 
he  closely  pressed,and  the  Danes  sailing  to  the  relief  ^0^'^- 
garrison,  a  ^iudden  frost  bound  their  vessels  in  ice  ata^dis- 
tance  from  the  port.  Gustavus  formed  the  bold  resolhtion 
of  burning  the  hostile  Heet,  and  marched  at  the  head  of  hia 


A  SUMMER'S  MORNi 


IGd 


ends  to 
he  was 
3ed  with 
rhere  all 
>  assem- 
sensible 
;o  revolt, 
late  their 
,6  of  this 
irted  foi 
)ared  for 
trious  foi 

itrepidity 
»ly  which 
the  other 
ched  with 
3  horrible 
an,  of  the 
es  of  the 
ith  indig- 
to  revenge 
p  of  their 
uir  allegi- 
inction,  all 
massacre 
3ir  kindled 
led  of  his 
governor, 
jy  assault, 
)anes. 
ed  in  favor 
standard ; 
ro  was  an 
t  the  head 
)st  perilous 
y  crowned 
lolm,  which 
elief  l^^'- 
ce  atlrdis- 
resol\ition 
head  of  bis 


troops,  who  grasped  their  swords  in  one  hand,  and  torches  in 
the  other.  They  endeavored  to  scale  the  vessels ;  but  the 
Danes  commenced  a  terrible  discharge  of  cannon  and  mus- 
ketry. In  spite,  however,  of  their  brave  resistance,  several  of 
the  ships  were  set  on  fire,  and  abandoned  with  precipitation  by 
each  of  the  contending  parties.  The  darkness  of  the  night, 
the  groans  of  the  wounded,  the  shrieks  of  those  who  were 
perishing  in  the  flames,  and  the  crackling  of  the  ice,  struck 
the  Danes  with  terror  and  consternation.  Man}  of  their 
vessels  were  destroyed ;  and,  in  all  probability,  I'M-y  would 
not  have  saved  a  single  one,  had  not  an  intervening  thaw 
prevented  a  second  attack,  which  Gustavus  intended  td  have 
made  the  following  day. 

16.  This  victory,  which  was  gained  in  the  sight  of  the 
capital,  induced  the  most  lukewarm  of  his  countrymen  to 
join  him.  A  diet  having  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  elect- 
ing a  sovereign,  the  Speaker,  in  characterizing  a  patriotic  king, 
drew  the  portrait  of  Gustavus,  whose  vigilance,  valor,  activi- 
ty, and  pruderice,  would,  he  said,  be  able  to  oppose  and  re- 
sist all  the  future  attempts  of  Denmark  to  subjugate  and 
enslave  the  nation  again,  under  pretence  of  renewing  the 
union  of  Calmar.  This  harangue  was  received  with  uni- 
versal applause ;  and  the  people,  impelled  by  their  zeal,  an- 
ticipated the  votes  of  the  senators  and  deputies  of  the  pro- 
vinces, and  proclaimed  Gustavus  king  of  Sweden.  The  air 
was  rent  with  the  acclamations  of  the  multitude,  and  he  was 
styled  the  savi6r  and  defender  of  his  country.  Gustavus 
modestly  endeavored  to  refuse  the  crown  ;  but  suffered  him- 
self to  be  prevailed  on  by  the  prayers  and  entreaties  of  the 
whole  assembly,  and  was  accordingly  acknowledged  king  of 
Sweden  and  of  the  two  Gothlands,  by  the  united  voices  of 
the  Senate,  deputies,  and  people,  who  took  an  oath  of  fidelity 
toHhe  new  monarch. 


% 


A  SUMMER'S  MORN. 

1.  SwEKT  tho  beams  of  rosy  morning, 
Silent  chasing  gloom  away  ; 


When  wa3  Gustivun  acknowledged  king  of  Sweden  ' 
16 


HM>il" 


fmmmm^mm 


I  <  *ii 


iJtl 


170  JOAN  OF  ARC. 

Lo?eIy  tints  the  sky  adorning, 
Harbingers  of  opening  day ! 

See  the  king  of  day  appearing — 
Slow  his  progress  and  serene ; 

Soon  I  feel  the  influence  cheering 
Of  this  grand  and  lovely  scene  ! 

%  Lovely  songsters  join  their  Toicei, 

Harmony  the  grove  pervades ; 
All  in  nature  now  rejoices, — 

Light  and  joy  succeed  the  shades. 
Stars  withdraw,  and  man  arises, 

To  his  labor  cheerful  goes  ; 
Day's  returning  blessings  prizes, 

And  in  praise  his  pleasure  shows ! 

3.  May  each  morn,  that  in  succession 

Adds  new  mercies  ever  flowing. 
Leave  a  strong  and  deep  .mpression 

Of  my  debt,  for  ever  growing ! 
Debt  of  love,  ah  !  how  increasing  ! 

Days  and  years  fresh  blessings  bring ; 
But  my  praise  shall  flow  unceasing, 

And  my  Maker's  love  I'll  sing ! 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 

1  The  throne  of  France  being  vacated  by  the  death  of 
Charles  VL,  his  son  Charles  VH.,  and  Henry  VL,  king  of 
England,  were  competitors  for  the  crown.  The  cause  of  the 
English  monarch  was  bravely  supported  by  the  sword  ;  and 
Bnal  success  seemed  almost  ready  to  decide  in  his  favor. 
City  after  city  had  been  successively  besieged,  and  success- 
ively fell  before  the  arms  of  the  victorious  pretender.  The 
city  of  Orleans,  an  important  post  of  communication  between 
the  northern  and  southern  parts,  was  the  principal  obstacle 
to  his  progress.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  lay  siege  to  this 
phce.     The  attack  and  the  defence  were  carried  oi^0ii  an  ■  ign 


^^' 


*  Who  were  competitors  for  the  crown  of  France,  or»  the  death  of 
Charles  VI.  ? — What  city  seemed  to  present  tlie  most  formidable  ob- 
stacle to  the  final  success  of  Henry  VI.  ^ 


oftl 

of 

duct 


an 
resol 

COQtl 

assei 
it  sul 


leans  I 
empic 
IV, 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


171 


equal  deg'-ee  of  vigor ;  but,  after  many  signal  instances  of 
valor  performed  by  the  besiegers  and  the  besieged,  Charles 
was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  city  for  lost,  and  thought 
of  retiring  to  make  his  last  stand  at  Languedoc. 

2.  At  this  critical  juncture,  that  celebrated  historical  phe- 
nomenon, tho  Maid  of  Orleans,  appeared ;  and  his  affairs 
took  a  turn  wnich  the  most  sanguine  imagination  could  never 
have  expectetl.  This  singular  character  was  a  country  girl, 
named  Joan  d' Arc,  who  lived  at  a  village  of  Lorraiii.  hi  the 
humble  station  of  servant  at  an  inn.  It  is  said,  that  in  this 
situation  she  had  learned  to  ride  and  manage  a  horse,  by  be-^ 
ing  frequently  accustomed  to  act  as  hostler.  The  enthusi- 
astic turn  of  her  imaginatlbn,  inflamed  by  daily  accounts  of 
the  occurrences  then  taking  place,  inspired  her  with  a  ro- 
mantic desire  of  relieving  the  distresses  of  her  country  and 
of  its  youthful  monarch.  Her  inexperienced  mind  continu- 
ally revolving  these  important  subjects,  she  mistook  the  im- 
pulses of  fancy  for  celestial  inspirations,  and  imagined  herself 
vested  with  a  divine  commission  to  restore  her  sovereign  to 
his  rights,  and  her  country  to  its  independence. 

3.  In  this  persuasion,  and  animated  by  an  enthusiasm, 
which,  inspiring  intrepidity,  caused  her  to  overlook  all  dan- 
gers and  difilculties,  and  cast  off  all  reserve,  she  presented 
herself  before  Baudricourt,  governor  of  Vaucouleurs,  and 
informed  him  of  her  divine  mission.  The  governor,  influ- 
enced either  by  superstition  or  policy,  sent  her  immediately 
to  Chinon,  where  the  French  king  then  resided.  Being  in- 
troduced to  the  kincr,  she  immediately  offered,  in  th^  name 
of  the  great  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth,  to  raise  the  siege 
of  Orleans,  and  to  reinstate  him  in  his  kingdom,  by  con- 
ducting him  to  Rheims,  to  be  anointed  and  crowned. 

4.  The  king  and  court,  perceiving  that  she  might  be  made 
an  useful  instrument  in  this  crisis  of  difficulty  and  danger, 
resolved  to  adopt  the  illusion  ;  and  an  excellent  plan  was 
contrived  to  give  i*;  weight  in  the  minds  of  the  people.  An 
assembly  of  divines  examined  her  mission,  and  pronounced 
it  supernatural ;  and  every  story  that  craf.  cculd  invent,  or 
igno^|nce  believe,  was  used  to  attest  the  reality  of  her  inspi- 

What  singular  character  came  to  tho  aid  of  Charles  VTI.  when  Or- 
leans was  besieged  ? — What  had  been  her  situation,  a»  to  rank  and 
employment  ?— What  promise  did  she  make  to  the  French  kin^f  ?— 
Wpffl  her  services  accepted  ? 


172 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


l:'hM 


C4-.f 


ration.  It  was  every  where  published,  that  when  first  intro. 
duced  to  the  king,  whom  she  had  never  before  seen,  she 
instantly  knew  him,  although  purposely  divested  of  every 
mark  that  might  distinguish  him  from  the  rest  of  the  as- 
sembly ;  and  that  she  demanded,  as  the  instrument  of  her 
future  victories,  a  sword  .of  a  particular  kind,  which  was 
kept  in  the  church  of  St.  Catharine  de  Fierbois,  and  which 
though  she  had  never  seen  it,  she  minutely  described.  Ii 
was  universally  asserted,  and  as  universally  believed,  thi 
heaven  had  declared  in  favor  of  Charles,  and  laid  Lare  ii 
outstretched  arm  to  take  vengeance  of  his  enemies. 

5.  The  minds  of  men  being  thus  prepared,  the  maid  wi 
mounted  on  horseback,  arrayed  in  all  the  habiliments  of  wi 
and  shown  to  the  people,  who  received  her  with  the  loudei 
acclamations.     The  English  at  first  affected  to  treat  tl 
farce   with  derision ;   but  their  imagination  was  sec 
struck  ;  and  superstition,  ingrafted  on  ignorance,  is  irresi 
ble.     Feeling  their  courage  abated,  they  conceived  thei 
selves  to  be  under  the  infiuence  of  divine  vengeance ;  and 
general  consternation  took  place  among  those  troops,  whici 
before  this  event,  were  elated  with  victory,  and  fearless 
danger.     The  maid,  at  the  head  of  a  convoy,  arrayed  in  mi 
tial  habiliments,  and  displaying  a  consecrated  standard 
tered  Orleans,  and  was  received  as  a  celestial  deliverer, 
the  count  de  Dunois,  who  commanded  in  the  place,  sensil 
of  the  difficulty  of  carrying  on  this  farce,  as  well  as  of 
importance,  and  of  the  dangerous  consequences  of  anyevi 
that  might  detect  its  fallacy,  did  not  deviate  from  the  regi 
rules  of  war,  nor  suffer  his  mode  of  operations  to  be  direci 
by  enthusiasm. 

6.  He  represented  to  her,  that  when  heaven  favors  a  cai 
the  divine  will  requires  that  the  best  human  means  sb 
be  used,  to  correspond  with  celestial  aid.  Thus,  while 
seemed  to  conduct  every  thing,  she  acted  under  his  directii 
and,  by  his  instruction,  she  defeated  the  English  in  sevi 
desperate  sallies,  drove  them  from  their  intrenchments, 
compelled  them  to  raise  the  siege.  This  event  gave  valii 
to  her  pretensions,  and  confirmed  the  general  opinion  of 


What  method  did  the  count  dr.  Dunois  take  with  the  Maid  of| 
loans  ? 


JOAN  OF  ARC 


173 


divine  mission.     The  French  were  more  elated,  and  the 
English  more  dismayed. 

7.  The  raising  of  the  siege  of  Orleans  was  one  part  of 
her  promise  to  Charles ;  the  oth^,  which  was  his  coronation 
at  Rheims,  yet  remained  to  be  performed,  and  appeared  a 
work  of  some  c'ifficulty.  Rheims  was  in  a  distant  part  of 
the  kingdom,  and  in  the  hands  of  a  victorious  enemy.  The 
whole  country  through  which  it  was  necessary  to  pass,  was 
occupied  by  the  English,  who  filled  all  the  fortified  places 
with  garrisons.  It  was,  however,  deemed  expedient  to  main- 
tain the  belief  of  something  supernatural  in  those  events. 
Charles,  therefore,  resolved  to  avail  himself  of  the  consterna- 
tion of  the  eneiny,  and  to  follow  his  prophetic  conductress 
He  accordingly  began  his  march  towards  Rheims,  at  the  head 
of  twelve  thousand  men.  The  English  troops  were  every 
where  petrified  with  terror ;  every  city  and  fortress  surren- 
dered without  resistance.  Rheims  opened  its  gates,  and  he 
was  anointed  and  crowned,  A.  D.  1430,  amidst  the  loudest 
acclamations. 

8.  The  Maid  of  Orleans  now  declared  that  her  mission 
was  concluded ;  but  by  the  persuasions  of  the  king,  she  con- 
sented to  remain  in  his  service.  This  determination,  how- 
ever, proved  fatal  to  the  heroine.  Having  imprudently 
thrown  herself  into  Compeigne,  then  besieged  by  the  Eng- 
lish, she  was  taken  prisoner  in  making  a  sortie.  Policy,  su- 
perstition, and  vengeance^  concurred  in  procuring  her  de- 
struction. The  duke  of  Bedford  was  desirous  of  dispelling 
an  illusion  which  converted  the  English  into  cowards,  and 
the  French  into  heroes.  The  measures  which  he  took  for 
that  purpose  have  disgraced  his  name  in  the  eyes  of  an  en- 
lightened posterity,  but  they  Were  perfectly  in  unison  with 
the  superstitious  spirit  of  that  age.  By  his  order,  she  was 
tried  by  an  ecclesiastical  court,  on  charges  of  impiety,  here- 
sy, and  sorcery.  Her  ignorant  or  iniquitous  judges  found 
her  guilty  of  all  these  crimes  ;  and  this  enthusiastic,  but  ad 


What  was  thought  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  by  the  French  !•— What 
was  thought  of  her  by  the  English  ? — Did  she  accomplish  her  promise 
to  the  kinff  ? — What  induced  her  to  remain  in  the  king's  service, 
after  miishinff  her  mission,  as  she  termed  it  ? — What  was  the  con- 
cequenco  of  her  continuing  in  it  P — Of  what  crimes  was  she  accused 
by  the  English  ? 

16  * 


i74 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


mirable  patriot  and  heroine,  whose  life  and  conduct  had  been 
irreproachable,  was  consigned  to  the  flames. 

9.  The  revolution  produced  by  the  Maid  of  Orleans  is 
perhaps  the  most  singular  that  has  occurred  in  any  age  or 
country,  and  her  character  and  pretensions  have  been  a  sub- 
ject of  dispute  iCmong  historians  and  divines.  While  the 
French  writers  affirmed  that  she  was  commissioned  of  God, 
and  the  English  considered  her  as  an  agent  of  the  devil,  na- 
tional prejudice,  united  with  superstition,  directed  their 
opinion.  An  accurate  knowledge  of  the  human  mind,  and 
of  political  history,  will  solve  the  problem,  without  having 
recourse  to  any  thing  of  a  miraculous  nature.  Some  have 
supposed  that  the  whole  affair  originated  in  the  court,  and 
that  Joan  d'  Arc  was  from  the  very  first  instructed  in  the 
part  that  she  was  to  act.  Pope  Pius  II.  seems  to  have  in- 
clined to  this  opinion. 

10.  But  from  her  examination  before  the  judges,  in  which 
she  declares  that  she  had  frequently  heard  voices^  and  been 
fav-f^rcd  with  visits  by  St.  Catharine  and  St.  Margaret,  it  ap- 
pears that  she  was  a  deranged  visionary,  that  the  whole 
affair  had  originated  from  her  own  disordered  imagination, 
and  that  the  king  and  court  considered  her  as  an  instrument 
that  might  be  of  use,  and  could  be  of  ito  prejudice,  in  their 
situation,  which  already  appeared  desperate,  availed  them- 
selves of  the  illusion,  and  seconded  it  by  imposture.  On 
these  princij>les,  this  extraordinary  affair,  the  discussion  of 
which  has  employed  so  many  pens,  is  easily  explained  ;  and 
sound  reason,  untinctured  with  superstition,  will  readily  con- 
clude, that  the  celebrated  Maid  of  Orleans  was  neither  sa,int 
nor  sorcerer,  but  a  visionary  enthusiast.  The  whole  transac- 
tion was  nothing  more  than  a  seasonable  and  successful  con- 
currence of  enthusiasm  in  the  maid,  of  political  craft  in  the 
court,  and  of  superstitious  credulity  in  the  people,  all  which 
are  far  from  being  miraculous  circumstances. 

1 1.  After  the  execution  of  the  unfortunate  maid,  the  illu- 
sion vanished  ;  but,  as  if  heaven  had  resolved  to  mark  with 
disapprobation  this  act  of  inhuman  barbarity,  the  affairs  of 
the  English  grew  every  day  more  unsuccessful.    The  duke 


What  was  done  with  the  Maid  of  Orkars  ? — What  opinion  did  pope 
Pius  and  some  others  entertain  concealing  her  ? — On  what  principle 
can  the  whole  of  this  extraordinary  affair  oe  accounted  for  ? 


,  had  been 

Orleans  is 
iny  age  or 
Ben  a  sub- 
While  the 
id  of  God, 
devil,  na- 
cted  their 
mind,  and 
»ut  having 
>ome  have 
court,  and 
2ted  in  the 
to  have  in- 

3,  in  which 
,  and  been 
;aret,  it  ap- 
the  whole 
nagination, 
instrument 
^e,  in  their 
iled  them- 
sture.  On 
icussion  of 
lined ;  and 
eadily  con- 
iither  saint 
)le  transac- 
sessful  con- 
craft  in  the 
all  which 

id,  the  illu- 
mark  with 

le  affairs  of 
The  duke 


tiion  did  pope 
rhat  principle 
for? 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^0 


Mt 


1.0 


I.I 


I^|2j8    125 

■so  ■^™   mi 

f  u^H^ 

WUi- 


1.25      1.4   1 1.6 

^ 

6"     

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporallon 


'% 

V 


^^     ^\  ^f\\ 


33wisi.j;Airi*rHiT 

WIMTIR.N.Y.  I4SM 
(716)  173-4503 


,<lf. 


i/.A 


m^mmmw^W^'^ 


FIBST  LANDING  OF  COLUMDUS. 


^mmmr 


mm 


DISCOVERY  OF  AMERICA. 


176 


of  Burgundy  deserted  their  interests ;  the  duke  of  Bedford 
BOon  after  died ;  and  the  French  were  every  where  victorious. 
Paris  surrendered  to  their  arms  on  Low  Sunday,  1436,  aAer 
having  been  fourteen  years  in  the  possession  of  the  Ihiglish. 
Normandy  and  Guienne,  with  Bordeaux,  its  capital,  were  con- 
quered, and  the  English  for  ever  expelled  from  France,  with 
the  single  exception  of  Calais ;  which  they  still  retained,  as 
t  solitary  monument  of  their  former  greatness  on  the  con- 
tinent. 


DISCOVERY  OF  AMERICA. 

1.  It  has  fajeen  believed  by  many,  that  America  wa%  not 
unknown  to  the  ancients;  and  from  certain  passages  in  the 
works  of  some  of  the  writers  of  antiquity,  as  well  as  coinci- 
dences in  th3  languages  and  customs  of  some  nations  of  the 
old  and  new  ccuatinent,  plausible  reasons  have  been  advanc- 
ed in  favor  of  tne  theory. ,  Whatever  knowledge,  however, 
the  inhabitants  of  Europe  possessed  of  America,  no  traces 
of  it  existed  at  the  period  of  the  revival  of  letters;  it  was 
generally  supjposed  that  the  Canaries,  or  Fortunate  Islands, 
formed  the  .western  boundary  of  their  world.  For  the  cor- 
rection of  this  error,  and  the  discovery  of  a  new  continent, 
mankind  are  indebted  ^  the  genius  and  enterprise  of  Chris- 
topher Colon,  a  native  of  Oenoa,  better  known  to  us  by  the 
name  of  Christopher  Cojiumbus.  From  a  long  tind  close  ap- 
plication to  the  dtudy  of  geography,  this  great  man  had  ob- 
tained a  knowledge  of  the  true  figure  of  the  earth,  far  be- 
yond what  was  common  to  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  Ano- 
ther continent,  he  conceived,  necessarily  existed,  to  complete 
thft  balance  of  the  terraqueous  globe;  but  he  erroneously 
ccmceiv^ed  it  to  be  connected  with  that  of  India.  This  error 
arose  from  the  construction  of  the  maps  of  that  period,  which 
represented  the  oriental  countries  of  Asia  as  stretching  vastly 
farther  to  the  east,  than  actual  observation  has  proved  tl^m 
to  extend. 


V 


Wheii  did  Paris  sarrender  to  the  French  arms  ? — How  long  wi  i  it 
a  the  hands  of  the  English  ?— Who  discovered  America  ?— Wha^  lad 
Columbus  to  sappose  there  was  another  continent  P 


■t.^ 


w  • ;  ■; 


11" 


176 


mSjCOYERY  OF  AMEBIOA. 


3.  Having  fully  satisfied  himself  ^%h  the  theoretical  truth 
of  his  system,  his  adventiirous  spirit  made  him  eager  to  verify 
It  by  experiment  For  this  puipose  he  applied  t^  the  senate 
of  Qenoa,  developing  his  views,  and  representing  the  advan- 
tages which  would  accrue  to  the  republic  from  thejaossession 
oi  a  new  route  to  the  great  source  of  optdence.^  TJie^Qeno- 
ese,  however,  treated  the  idea  as  absurd  an^  chimierical,  and 
rejected  the  proposal  with  contempt.  AhhOtigh  disappointed 
in  this  first  attempt,  Columbus  was  not  discouraged.  Through 
his  brother  Bartholomew,  he  applied  to  Henry  VIL  of  Eng- 
land ;  but  the  cautious  prudence  of  that  monarch  deprived 
him  of  the  honor  df  patronising  a  m&n  whose  friendship 
would  have  immortalized  him.  Tho  next  attempt  of  Colum- 
bus was  at  the  Portuguese  court,  which  had  in  that  age  great- 
ly distinguished  itself  by  favoring  the  spiHt  of  discovery 
&long  the  African  coast.  Here  he  met  with  an  additional 
ipQortification,  from  an  attempt  to  anticipate  him  in  the  en- 
lerprise,  which^  however,  {proved  abortive  at  an  early  period. 
' '  s  a  last  resource,  he  now  laid  hia  scheme  before  the  court  of 
pain.  ,  ; 

3.  After  eight  years  of  anxious  solicitation  and  contempt- 
uous neglect,  he  bbtaitied  a  gleam  of  royal  favor  on  lus  bold 
and  origmal  project.^  The  interei^t  of  queen  Isabella  pro- 
ciired  him  three  small  vessels,  with  which  he  set  sail  from 
'  the  port  of  Palos,  in  Andalusia,  on  the  3d  of  August, 
149^.  He  steered  directly  for  the  Canaries,  whence  after 
having  refitted  as  w^ll  as  be  could  his  crazy  and  ill-appoint- 
ed flotilla,  he  agdn  sailed  on  the  6th  of  September,  keeping 
a  due  western  course  over  an  unknown  oceans  Several  days 
passed  without  a  sight  of  land ;  and  the  anxieties  of  the 
sailors,  arisinff  from  this  circumstance,  were  heightened  by 
the  variation  of  the  compass,  then  first  perceived.  An  open 
mutiny  took  place,  which  required  all  the  courage  and  ad- 
dress of  the  great  navigator  to  quell.  They  pursued  their 
course ;  but  when  thirty  days  had  elasped  without  any  indica- 
tion of  an  approach  to  land,  both  officers  and  men  joined  in 
a  Second  revolt.  Columbus  was  forced  partially  to  give  way 
to  their  remonstrances.    He  consented  to  return,  if,  afler 


To  whom  did  Columbui  apply  for  aid  in  prosectiting  hit  iiitan* 
ttons  ?— Who  ihially  aided  him  f->What  diflleuUial  did  km  have  to  M' 
eounttr,  after  he  left  the  Ctnariea  f 


1^ 


w^ 


l^^l^ipl 


■■i 


^ 


DISCOVERY  OP  AMERICA. 


m 


proceeding  three  days  longer,  nothing  appeared  to  confirfti 
his  esroectations* 

4*  With  these  assurances,  they  again  proceeded,  and  abont 
midnight^  on  the  11th  of  October,  Columbus,  who  was  stand- 
ing^. o»  the  forecastle,  discoveteid  a  light  ahead.  Morning 
displayed  the  joyfiil  sight  of  land ;  and  the  sailors  were  now 
as  ar^nt  in  their  expression  of  repentance  and  admiration, 
as  they  had  before  been  insolent  und  ungovernable.  The 
island  of  St.  Salvador,  one  of  the  BahamaiS,  was  the  first  part 
of  America  trodden  by  the  feet  of  Europeans.  From  the 
rude  poverty  of  the  inhabitants,  Columbus  soon  perceived 
that  he  wao  still  at  a  distance  firom  the  shores  of  India.  The 
fertile  island  of  St.  Domingo  was  next  discovered  ;  and  from 
some  specimens  of  gold,  Columbus  began  to  entertain  bright- 
er hopes.  Here  he  left  some  of  his  men  to  form  a  colony ; 
atid  having  touched  at  some  of  the  other  West  India  islands, 
lunong  which  were  Cuba  and  Hispaniola,  ^he  returned  to 
Spain.  On  his  arrival,  he  immediately  proceeded  to  court, 
where  he  was  received  with  admiration  and  respect.  The 
glory  and  benefit  which  promised  to  result  from  -the  disco- 
very, rendered  the  government  eager  to  forward  his  desigi\. 
A  fleet  of  seventeen  sail  was  prepared ;  and  Columbus,  who 
was  now.  appointed  viceroy  of  all  the  countries  he  should 
discover,  departed  on  his  second  voyage,  accompanied  by 
many  persons  of  rank  and  distinction.  During  the  pkonress 
of  the  voyage,  he  discovered  the  islands  of  Dominica,  Mari- 
galante,  Quadaloupe,  Montserat,  Antigua,  Porto  Rico,  and 
Jamaica.'::'.-:','''  '  -V-      .^.   '  ■  ■      . 

6.  The  success  of  this  great  man  did  not  fail  to  excite  envy 
and  intrigue  against  him  at  the  court  of  Spain.  An  officer 
was  sent  to  act  as  a  spy  over  his, actions;  and  Columbus 
soon  found  it  necessary  to  return  to  Europe,  for  the  purpose 
of  defeating  the  machinations  of  his  enemies.  After  great 
difficulty,  hie  obtained  leave  to  set  out  on  a  ttiird  expedition 
in  1408.  Sailing  south  from  Spain  as  far  as  the  equator,  he 
then  directed  his  course  to  the  west*  and  steered  with  the 
trade  winds  across  the  Atlantic  At  the  en<^  of  seventeen 
days  the  island  of  Trinidad  was  discovered,  and  on  the  1st 
of  August  he  reached  the  mouth  of  the  great  river  Orinoko. 


Whan  did  Columbut  diseover  land  P^What  Island  did  ho  first  dit- 
f«^T«r  '—What  diteoveriea  did  h«  maka  in  tha  third  v«vifta .' 


"P^^^ 


iH'I'l"  'M    ,     ■M^dil  I 


178 


THE  TIMES  OF  OLD. 


I'rom  tl/e  magnitude  of  this  stream  he  concluded  that  he  had 
discovered  the  continent,  and  the  continuance  of  land  to  the 
west  confirmed  the  belief.  He  then  coasted  a)jng  westward 
to  Cape  Vela,  from  which  he  crossed  over  to  Hispanipla. 
Ti'.c  new  glory  which  Columbus  had  now  acquired  excited 
fresh  intrigues  agamst  him,  which  prevailed  so  far,  that  he 
was  superseded  in  his  government,  and  sent  home  in  irons. 
He  justified  himself,  however,  to  the  court,  and  in  1503  was 
allowed  to  depart  on  a  fourth  voyage,  in  the  course  of  whick 
he  discovered  the  harbor  of  Porto  Bello,  and  a  considerable 
part  of  the  continent.  He  then  returned  to  Europe,  and 
died  at  Yalladolid,  in  the  year  1506,  in  the  59th  year  of  his 
age. 

6.  A  spirit  of  discovery  was  now  universally  excited.  In 
1499,  Amerigo  Vespucci,  a  Florentine,  and  a  man  of  science 
and  genius,  sailed  with  a  small  squadron  to  the  new  world, 
but  made  but  very  little  addition  to  the  former  discoveries. 
Ho  however  published  on  his  return  the  first  description  of 
the  new  countriesi  that  had  appeared ;  and  the  injustice  of 
mankind  has  given  his  name  to  the  whole  continent,  an  honor 
to  which  Columbus  was  so  much  more  justly  entitled.  In 
the  year  1500,  the  coast  of  Brazil  was  accidentally  discover- 
ed by  Alvarez  do  Cabral,  the  Portuguese  admiral,  in  conse- 
quence of  having  been  driven  too  far  to  the  west  on  a  voyage 
round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  The  idea  entertained  ori- 
ginally by  Columbus,  that  America  was  a  part  of  the  conti- 
nent of  Asia,  was  g^erally  received  until  1513,  when  the  Pa- 
cific Ocean  being  descried  from  the  mountains  of  the  isth- 
mus of  Darien,  this  chimera  began  to  vanish^ 


THE  TIMES  OF  OLD. 

Who  needs  a  teacher  to  admonish  him 
That  flesh  is  grass  ?— That  earthly  things  are  mist  1 
W^hat  are  our  joys  but  dreams  1  And  what  our  hopes 
But  goodly  shadows  in  the  summer  cloud  ? 


Under  what  circumstancoB  did  Columbus  return  to  Spain  fVom  hii 
third  vovago  ?-~How  many  voyages  of  discovery  did  he  make  ?— When 
did  he  clie,  and  at  what  nge  f-~^hy  is  the  western  continent  oalleH 
America  '-i-Whfit  should  it  have  been  called  ? 


^^IP 


THE  TIMES  OP  OLD.  I7« 

Theresa  not  a  wind  that  blows,  but  bears  with  it      ' 

Some  rainbow  promise — Not  a  moment  flies 

But  puts  its  sickle  in  the  fields  of  life, 

And  mows  its  thousands,  with  their  joys  and  cares* 

*Tis  but  as  yesterday,  since  on  yon  stars. 

Which  now  I  view,  the  Ghaldee  shepherd*  gaz'd, 

In  his  mid-watch,  observant,  and  disposed 

The  twinkling  hosts,  as  fancy  gave  them  shape. 

Yet  in  the  interim,  what  mighty  shocks 

Have  buffeted  mankind-^whole  nations  raz'd — 

Cities  made  desolate — ^the  polished  sunk 

To  barbarism,  and  onoe  barbaric  states 

Swaying  the  wand  of  science  and  of  arts^ 

Illustrious  deeds  and  memorable  names 

Blotted  from  record,  and  upon  the  tongue 

Of  grey  tradition  voluble  no  moie. 

Where  are  the  heroes  of  the  ages  past ; 
Where  the  brave  chieftains — ^where  the  mighty  qiiM 
Who  flourished  in  the  infkncy  of  days  ? — 
All  to  the  grave  gone  down  ! — On  their  fall*n  fame 
Exultant,  mocking  at  the  pride  of  man,  ^ 

Sits  grim  Forgct/ulness, — ^The  warrior's  arm 
Lies  nerveless  on  the  pillow  of  its  shame  ; 
Hush'd  is  his  stormy  voice,  and  quench'd  the  blase 
Of  his  red  eye^ball.    Yesterday  his  name 
Was  mighty  on  the  earth — ^To^ay— 'tis  What  t 
The  meteor  of  the  night  of  distant  years. 
That  flash'd  unnotic'd,  save  by  wrinkled  eld, 
Musing  at  midnight  upon  prophecies, 
Who  at  her  lonely  lattice  saw  the  gleam 
Point  to  the  mist-pois'd  shroud,  then  quietly 
Clos'd  her  pale  lips,  and  lock'd  the  secret  up 
Safe  in  the  charnel's  treasures. 

O  how  weak 
Is  mortal  man  !  How  trifling— how  confinM 
His  scope  of  vision  ! — ^Puff 'd  with  confidence, 
His  phrase  grows  big  with  immortality ; 
And  he,  poor  insect  of  a  summer's  day, 
Dreams  of  eternal  honors  to  his  name ; 

*  Alluding  to  the  firit  astvonomioal  obMnrationtj  nuidi  by  tht 
Clifeld«an  thepherds.  ^ . 

17  ' 


I  Am  *m 


I  ir 


180 


THE  TIMES  OF  OLD 


Of  endless  glory,  and  perennial  bays. 
He  idly  reasons  of  eternity, 
As  of  the  train  of  ages, — ^when,  alas ! 
Ten  thousand  thousand  of  his  centuries 
Are,  in  comparison,  a  little  point. 

Too  trivial  for  account. O  it  is  strange, 

*Tis  passing  strange,  to  mark  his  fallacies ; 
Behold  him  proudly  view  some  pompous  pile, 
Whose  high  dome  swells  to  emulate  the  skies, 
And  smile  and  ^y,  my  name  shall  live  with  this 
*Till  Time  shall  be  no  more  ;  while  at  his  feet, 
Yea,  at  his  very  feet,  the  crumbling  dust 
Of  the  falPn  fabric  of  the  other  day 
Preaches  the  solemn  lesson. — He  should  know. 
That  time  must  conquer.    That  the  loudest  blast 
That  ever  fill'd  Renown's  obstrep'rous  toump, 
Fades' in  the  lapse  of  ages,  and  expires. 
Who  lies  inhum'd  in  the  terrific  gloom 
Of  the  gigantic  pyramid  1    Or  who 
^ar*d  its  huge  wall  ? — Oblivion  laughs  and  says. 
The  prey  is  mine.    They  sleep,  and  never  mor9  , 
Th^i^  names  shall  strike  upon  the  ear  of  man, 
''iTheir  mem*ry  burst  its  fetters. 

Where  is  Rome  7 
She  lives  but  in  the  tale  of  other  times ; 
Her  proud  pavilions  are  the  hermits'  home. 
And  her  lung  colonnades,  her  public  walks, 
Now  faintly  echo  to  the  pilgrim's  feet. 
Who  comes  to  muse  in  solitude,  and  trace, 
Through  the  rank  moss  reveal'd,  her  honor'd  dust 
But  not  to  Rome  alone  has  fate  confinM 
The  doom  of  ruin  ;  cities  numberless. 
Tyre,  Sidon,  Carthage,  Babylon,  and  Troy, 
And  rich  Phcenicia — they  are  blotted  out, 
Half*>razM  from  memory ;  and  their  very 
And  6^1^,  in  dispute ! 


\ 


■JWJP ■■"        1   •^lU^"*    J  «   11    i"i"  '      ^'    I 


CAPTURE  OF  MONTEZUMA. 


181 


CAPTURE  OF  MONTEZUMA. 

1.  In  1518,  the  governor  of  Cuba,  Don  Velasques,  pro* 
jected  an  expedition  against  Mexico ;  and  desirous  to  arro- 
gate to  himself  the  glory  and  advantages  of  the  conquest, 
he  conferred  the  command  on  Hernando  Cortez,  a  bold  ad- 
venturer, whose  abilities  were  equal  to  any  undertaking,  and 
whose  fortune  and  rank  were  not  such  as  seemed  calculated 
to  inspire  him  with  any  higher  ideas  than  of  acting  in  per- 
fect subordination  to  his  employer.  The  event,  however, 
proved  contrary  to  the  expeetation  of  Yelasques.  Before  the 
expedition  sailed  from  Cuba,  he  began  to  suspect  the  aspiring 
ambition  of  Cortez,  and  resolved  to  deprive  him  of  the  com- 
mand. But  Cortez,  apprised  of  his  design,  and  perfectly 
secure  of  the  attachment  of  his  followers,  immediately  set 
sail  with  eleven  small  vessels,  of  which  the  largest  was  only 
100  tons  burden — ^three  were  of  tO  or  80 ;  and  the  others 
were  only  small  open  barks.  His  whole  force  consisted  only 
of  617  soldiers  and  seamea,  all  volunteers,  and  men  of  the 
most  daring  resolution. 

2.  With  this  small  force  he  undertook  the  conquest  of 
a  vast  empire.  Having  landed  on  the  continent,  he  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  town- of  Vera  Cruz,  and  built  a 
fortress  sufficiently  strong  to  resist  the  attacks  of  an  Indian 
army.  At  his  first  arrival,  he  received  a  message  from  Mon- 
tezuma, the  Mexican  emperor,  requiring  to  know  his  inten- 
tions in  visiting  his  country.  Cortez  announced  himself  as 
ambassador  from  the  king  of  Spain,  the  most  powerful  mo- 
narch of  the  east ;  and  declaring  himself  entrusted  with  such 
proposals  as  he  could  impart  only  to  the  emperor  in  person, 
requested  to  be  immediately  conducted  to  the  capital.  The 
Mexican  officers  hesitated  at  this  request,  which  they  knew 
ATould  be  extremely  embarrassing  to  Montezuma,  whose  mind 
had  become  harassed  with  alarming  apprehensions  ever  since 
he  had  heard  of  the  landing  of  the  Spaniards  on  his  coast 


Who  projected  the  expedition  against  Mexico  ? — When  was  it  ?— - 
To  whom  was  the  command  of  it  given  ? — With  what  force  did  Cor- 
tex attempt  the  conquest  of  Mexico  ? — Of  what  tofn»'4i4  he  lay  the 
foundation  on  landing  ?— -Who  was  the  emperor  of  Mexieo  at  this 
time? 


mi^^m 


m 


CAPl'URE  OF  MONTEZUMA. 


Ri 


3*  During  this  interview,  some  painters,  in  the  train  of  the 
Mexican  officers,  were  employed  in  sketching,  inuheir  rnde 
manner,  the  figures  of  the  ships,  the  horses,  the  artillery,  the 
soldiets,  and  whatever  attracted  their  attention.  Cortez  per> 
ceiving  this,  and  being  informed  that  the  pictures  were  de* 
signed  to  be  presented  to  Montezuma,  in  order  to  give  him 
a  just  idea  of  those  strange  and  wonderful  objects,  resolved 
to  render  the  representation  as  striking  as  possible,  by  exhi- 
biting such  a  spectacle  as  might  give  both  them  and  their  mo- 
narch an  awful  impression  of  the  irresistible  force  of  his 
arms.  The  trumpets,  by  his  order,  sounded  an  alarm  ;  the 
troops  in  a  moment  formed  in  order  of  battle ;  both  cavalry 
luid  infantry  performed  their  martial  exercises  and  evolu- 
tions ;  and  the  artillery  thundering  in  repeated  discharges, 
being  pointed  against  a  thick  forest  adjoining  to  the  camp, 
made  dreadful  havoc  among  the  trees.  The  Mexicans  were 
struck  'with  that  amazement,  which  a  spectacle  so  novel,  so 
extraordinary,  so  terrible,  and  so  much  above  their  compre- 
henftion,  might  be  expected  to  excite.  Reports  and  repre- 
sentations of  all  these  things  were  sent  to  Montezuma,  who, 
^3  well  AS  his  subjects,  conceived  that  the  Spaniards  were 
inore  than  human  beings,  an  opinion  which  Cortez  took  every 
opportunity  of  confirming  and  impressing  on  the  minds  of 
the  Mexicans.  ' 

4.  Montezuma  afterwards  sent  many  ambassadors  to  the 
Spanish  camp  with  rich  presents,  expressing  the  greatest 
iVietadship  for  Cortez  and  the  sovereign  of  Castile  ;  but  con- 
stantly requesting  him  to  depart  from  his  dominions.  This 
was  the  purport  of  every  message  from  the  Mexican  mo- 
narch. Cortez,  however,  continuing  to  advance,  the  request 
was  changed  into  a  command ;  Montezuma  absolutely  for- 
bade him  to  approach  the  capital,  and  required  his  immediate 
depitrture  from  the  country.  The  Spanish  general,  however, 
determined  to  proceed  to  Mexico,  and  concluded  an  alliance 
with  several  of  the  Mexican  chiefs,  who  being  weary  with 
Montezuma^s  tyranny,  took  this  opportunity  of  revolting 
against  his  government.  Cortez  soon  perceived,  that  al- 
though the  Mexican  empire  was  extensive,  populous,  and 
powerful,  it  was  very  far  from  being  firmly  consolidated,  a 

'l¥hat  method  did  Cortez  take  to  impress  the  Mexican  officers  with 
the  fK>wer  of  the  Spaiiiards  ?— What  n^iUod  did  Monteiuma  aedopt  In 
eonciliate  Cortez  ?  T 


m,\.  /i,'MiiiL| 


.■'  ^rfi'U'' 


CAPTURE  OF  MONTEZUMA. 


tm 


of  the 

r  rude 
ry,  the 
BZ  per- 
ere  de* 
re  him 
esolved 
y  exhi- 
leir  mo- 
\  of  his 
m;  the 
cavalry 
[  evolu- 
sharges, 
Q  camp, 
Lns  were 
lovel,  so 
compre- 
d  repre- 
ma,  who, 
rds  were 
iok  every 
ninds  of 

rs  to  the 

greatest 

but  con- 

This 

cican  mo- 

e  request 

utely  foi- 
mmediate 
however, 
alliance 
eary  with 
revolting 
,  that  al- 
dous,  and 
)Udated,  a 


IS 


n 


sers  with 
la  itdopt  1« 


circumstance  which  inspired  him  with  new  hope«  of  efSM 
ing  its  subjugation. 

5.  Previdus  to  the  commencement  of  his  marth  toward 
Mexico,  Cortez  represented  to  his  followers,  that  it  would  ht 
the  highest  degree  of  folly  to  think  of  returning  to  poverty 
and  disgrace,  afler  having  spent  their  whole  fortunes  in  the 
equipment  of  the  expedition ;  that  they  muit  absolutely  re- 
solve either  to  conquer  or  perish ;  that  the  ships  werd  so 
much  damaged,  as  to  be  unfit  for  service ;  and  that  their 
small  force  would  derive  a  very  considerable  accession  of 
strength  from  the  junction  of  100  men  necessarily  left  with  thci 
fleet.  By  these  arguments,  he  convinced  them  of  the  necesK 
sity  of  fixing  their  hopes  on  what  lay  before  them,  without 
ever  looking  back,  or  suffering  the  idea  of  a  retreat  to  enter 
their  minds.  With  the  consent  of  the  whole  army,  the  ves* 
sels  were  stripped  of  their  sails,  rigging,  iron-work,  and  othei* 
articles,  which  might  become  useful,  and  afterwards  brokisn 
in  pieces.  **  Thus,  by  an  effort  of  magnanimity,  to  which,'* 
says  Dr.  Robertson,  **  there  is  nothing  parallel  in  history,  500 
men  voluntarily  consented  to  be  shut  up  in  a  hostile  country, 
filled  with  powerful  and  unknown  nations ;  and  having  pre^ 
eluded  every  means  of  escape,  left  themselves  without  any 
resource  but  their  own  valor  and  perseverance." 

6.  Cortez  landed  in  Mexico  on  the^Sd  of  April,  t5l8; 
abd  on  the  16th  of  August,  he  began  his  march  towartjs  tkd 
metropolis,  with  .500  foot,  15  horse,  kiid  6  field  pieces.  The 
rest  of  his  men  were  left  to  garrison  {he  fort  of  Vera  Cruz. 
In  his  progress,  he  was  interrupted  by  a  war  with  the  Iladcft^ 
lans,  a  numerous  and  warlike  people,  whose  impetuous  valor^ 
however,  was  obliged  to  yield  to  the  sdp^riority  of  European 
weapons  and  tactics.  The  Ilascalans,  who  were  inveterate 
enemies  to  the  Mexicans,  having  experienced  the  valor  of 
the  l^aniards,  whom  they  regarded  as  invincible,  concluded 
with  them  a  treaty  of  peace,  and  aflerwards  df  alliance ;  and 
contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the  sucCesiSI  '6f  their  enter- 
prise. Cortez,  with  his  Spaniards,  accompanied  with  6000 
of  his  new  allies,  now  advanced  towards  Mexio6.  Th^ 
were  met,  in  different  parts  of  their  journey,  by  meAsengera 
from  J^ontezuma,  bearing  rich  presents,  and  somieitimes  iii<i> 


To  what  desperate  measure  did  Cortez  and  the  Spaniarda  reaoti 
before  marchinff  for  Mezitio  f       . 


H.WW  I    B!i^f»^»r- 


154  CAPTURE  OP  MONTEZUMA. 

viting  them  to  proceed,  but  at  others  requesting  them  to  re- 
tire. No  measures  were  taken  to  oppose  his  progress ;  and 
such  was  the  embarrassment  of  the  Mexican  monarch,  that 
the  Spaniards  were  already  at  the  gates  of  his  capital  before 
it  was  determined  whether  to  receive  them  as  friends  or  ene- 
mies. 

7.  Mexico,  seated  on  islands  near  the  western  side  of  the 
lake,  vras  inaccessible  except  by  three  causeways,  extending 
over  the  shallow  waters.  The  Spaniards  being  arrived  on 
the  borders  of  the  lake,  advanced  along  the  causeway  with 
great  circumspection ;  and  on  their  near  approach  to  the 
city,  they  were  met  by  about  1000  persons  clothed  in  mantles 
df  fine  cotton,  and  adorned  with  plumes.  These  announced 
tne  approach  of  Montezuma,  and  were  followed  by  about  200 
Others  in  an  uniform  dress,  adorned  also  with  plumes,  and 
marching  in  solemn  silence.  Next  appeared  a  company  of 
a  higher  rank,  in  showy  apparel ;  and  in  the  midst  of  them 
was  Montezuma,  in  a  chair  or  litter,  richly  ornamented  with 
gold,  and  feathers  of  various  colors,  and  carried  on  the 
shoulders  of  four  of  his  principal  officers,  while  others  sup- 
ported ft  canopy  over  his  head.  Thus  the  Mexican  monarch, 
surrounded  with  barbaric  pomp,  introduced  into  his  capital 
the  subverter  of  his  throne.  He  conducted  the  Spaniards 
into  the  city,  assigned  them  quarters  in  a  large  building  en- 
compassed with  a  stone  wall,  with  towers  at  proper  distances, 
and  containing  courts  and  apartments  sufficiently  spacious 
for  their  accommodation,  and  that  of  their  allies.  Here 
Oortez  planted  the  artillery,  posted  sentinels,  and  ordered 
his  troops  to  preserve  the  same  strictness  of  discipline  as  if 
they  had  been  encamped  in  the  face  of  an  enenij. 

8*  During  some  time  the  greatest  harmony  subsisted  be- 
tween the  Spaniards  and  Mexicans ;  and  Montezuma  made 
presents  of  such  value,  not  only  to  Cortez  and  his  officers, 
but  also  to  his  private  men,  as  demonstrated  the  opulence  of 
his  kingdoln.  The  Spaniards,  however,  soon  began  to  re- 
flek  on  their  situation,  shut  up  in  Mexico,  and  surrounded 
l|r  the  waters  of  its  lake^  And  the  Ilascalans  had  earnestly 
dissuaded  Cortez  from  venturing  to  enter  a  city  of  so  pecu" 
Bar  a  situation  as  Mexico,  where  he  might  be  shut  up  as  in 


H«  w  ii  Mexieo  situated  ? 


■.\.  »■"" 


CAPTURE  OF  MONTEZUMA. 


18$ 


a  Buare,  out  of  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  escape. 
These  allies  had  also  assured  him  that  the  Mexican  priests 
had,  in  the  name  of  the  gods,  counselled  their  sovereign  to 
admit  the  Spaniards  into  his  capital,  where  he  might  with 
perfect  security  cut  them  off  at  one  blow.  The  mind  of 
Cortez,  however,  was  equal  to  his  trying  situation,  and  he 
formed  a  plan  no  less  extraordinary  than  daring.  He  resolv- 
ed to  seize  Montezuma  in  his  palace^  and  to  carry  him  pri- 
soner to  the  Spanish  quarters.  From  the  veneration  of  the 
Mexicans  for  the  person  of  the>r  monarch,  and  from  their 
implicit  obedience  to  his  will,  he  hoped,  by  having  Montezu- 
ma in  his  power,  to  have  the  supreme  direction  of  affairs ; 
or  at  leasC  by  having  so  sacred  a  pledge  in  his  hands,  he 
made  no  doubt  of  being  secure  from  aggression. 

9.  Before  Cortez  entered  Mexico,  an  engagement  hx^ 
taken  place  near  Vera  Cruz  between  the  iVfexicans  ani  a 
detachment  of  the  Spanish  garrison  of  that  place  ;  n-d'  alt- 
though  the  Spaniards  were  victorious,  one  ot  them  happenecj 
to  be  taken  prisoner.  '}  his  unfortunate  c«<.ptive  was  imme 
diately  beheade^?  and  his  head,  af^er  being  canied  in  tiiumfm 
to  different  cities,  in  order  to  convince  the  people  that  theii 
invaders  were  not  immortal,  was  at  last  sent  to  Mexi^Oi  Ai* 
though  Cortez  had  received  intelligence  of  this  affiur  in  hi^ 
route,  it  had  not  deterred  him  from  entering  the  city ;  but, 
reflecting  on  his  priecarious  situation,  he  resolved  to  make  il 
a  pretext  for  seizing  the  emperor.  At  his 'usual  hour  pf  vi- 
siting Montezuma,'he  went  to  the  palace,  accompanied  by  five 
of  his  principal  officers,  and  as  many  trusty  soldiers.  Thirty 
chosen  men  followed  after,  not  in  order,  but  sauntering  at 
intervals,  as  if  they  had  no  other  object  than  curiosity.: '  Small 
parties  were  posted  at  proper  intervals  between  the  Spanish 
quarters  and  the  court,  and  the  rest  of  the  troops  were  under 
arms  ready  to  sally  out  on  the  first  alarm.  ' 

10.  Cortez,  with  his  attendants,  being  admitted  as  usual, 
he  reproached  the  monarch  with  being  the  author  of  the  vio^ 
lent  assault  made  on  the  Spaniards  near  Vera  Criiz,  by  one 
of  his  officers.  Montezuma,  confounded  at  this  unexpected 
reproach,  asserted  his  innocence  :  and  as  a  prooii,  gave  oniera 
to  bring  the  officer  and  his  accomplices  prisoners  to  Mexica 
Cortez  professed  himself  convinced  of  Montezuma's  inno- 
cence, but  told  him,  that  to  produce  the  same  conviction  on 
the  minds  of  his  followers,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 


^■pppf 


m 


CAPTUMi  OP  MONTEZUMA. 


1^ 


^xhil^t  a  proof  of  his  confidence  and  ailachment,  by  remoT- 
ittg  irom  his  palace,  and  taking  up  his  residence  in  the 
Spanish  quarters,  where  he  shoiSd  be  honored  as  became 
a  great  monarch.  Montezuma  remonstrated  against  the 
strange  proposal.  His  remonstrances,  however,  were  vain — - 
he  saw  that  Cortez  was  determined,  and  he  found  himself 
Under  the  necessity  of  compliance.  He  was  therefore  carried 
in  silent  and  sorrowful  pomp  to  the  Spanish  quarters ;  but 
when  it  was  known  that  the  strangers  were  carrying  away 
the  emperor;  the  people  broke  out  in  Ihe  wildest  transports 
of  rage,  and  threatened  the  Spaniards  with  immediate  de- 
struction. But  as  soon  as  Montezuma  waved  his  hand,  and 
declared  that  H  was  an  act  of  his  own  choice,  the  multitude, 
accustomed  to  revere  every  intimation  of  the  sovereign's 
pleasure,  quietly  dispersed. 

11.  Cortez  having  the  emperor  in  his  power,  now  govern- 
ed the  empire  in  his  name ;  and  Montezuma  was  only  the 
Organ  of  his  will,  although  he  was  attended  as  usual  by  liis 
ininJisters,  and  the  external  aspect  of  the  government  under- 
went no  alteration.  The  unfortunate  monarch,  however, 
\i/BS  obliged  to  acknowledge  himself  a  vassal  to  the  king  of 
iSpaiii,  and  to. accompany  his  professions  of  fealty  and  hom- 
age by  a  magnificent  present  to  his  new  sovereign.  His  sub- 
jects, imitating  his  example,  brought  in  liberal  contributions. 
AlllUie  gold  and  silver,  however,  which  the  Spaniards  had 
acquired  since  their  entrance  into  Mexico,  being  now  col- 
lected and  melted  down,  amounted  to  no  more  than  600,000 
pesos,  exclusive  of  jewels  and  other  ornaments,  which 
i^ere  preserved  on  account  of  their  curious  workmanship. 
On  being  divided,  a  fifth  part  was  set  aside  as  a  tax  due  to 
Ih^e  king  V  another  fifth  was  allotted  to  Cortez  as  command- 
(Brrinrrclnef ;  the  other  ofiicers  received  their  shares  in  pro> 
portion  to  their  rank ;  and  when  the  expenses  of  the  expedi- 
tion were  deducted)  the  share  of  a' private  man  amounted  to 
a  hundred  pesos,  a  sum  mUch  below  their  expectation. 

12.  In  the  mean  time,  Qiialpopoca,  the  Mexican  general, 
Vfho  conimiihded  in  the  engagement  mentioned  In  section  9th, 
Ipgether  with  his  son,  ana  five  of  the  principal  ofiicers  that 
YiA  served  under  him,  were  brought  prisoners  to  the  capital. 

How  did  Cortot  get  potMiNdon  of  the  person  of  Montezuma  ?-» 
What  was  the  amount  or  tlie  presents  rveeived  by  the  Spaniards  ?— - 
Who  wss  Qualpopooa  f 


^iijiMuiiii 


ji ^_ 


m^ 


^;^mm^mmmm 


mm^\ 


CAPTUHE  OF  MONT£;Zi;ilA. 


m 


by  femoT- 
ice  in  the 
Eis  became 
gainst  the 
ere  vain- 
id  himself 
ore  carried 
urters;  but 
•ying  away 
transports 
mediate  de- 
i  hand,  and 
I  multitude, 
sovereign's 

LOW  govern- 
as  only  the 
isual  by  liis 
nent  under- 
[1,  however, 
the  king  of 
ty  and  hom- 
I.    His  sub- 
mtributions. 
aniards  had 
ig  now  col- 
kan  600,000 
mts,   which 
srkmanship. 
a  tax  due  to 
s  command- 
ares  in  pro* 
'  the  expedi- 
nmounted  to 
ation. 

can  general, 

section  9th, 

officers  that 

>  the  capital. 

bnteznma  ?— 
Spaniard!  ?— 


by  tiie  order  of  Monlezuma,  and  given  up  to  Oortez ;  whd 
after  undergoing  the  form  of  trial  by  a  Spanish  court  mai^ 
tial,  and  though  they  acted  as  brave  and  loyal  subjects  iit 
obeying  the  orders  of  their  sovereign,  in  opposing  the  inva- 
ders of  their  country,  they  were  condemned  to  be  burnt 
alive.  The  unhiqppy  victims  were  instantly  led  ibrth.  The 
pile  on  which  they  were  laid  was  composed  of  the  weapons 
collected  in  the  royal  magazine  lR)r  the  public  defci^ce.  An 
innumerable  multitude  of  Mexicans  beheld,  in  silent  lusto- 
nishment,  this  fresh  insult  offered  to  the  majesty  of  iheir  em- 
pire— an  officer  of  distinction  committed  to  the  flflnies,  by 
the  authority  of  strangers,  for  having  done  what  he  owed  in 
duty  to  his  sovereign ;  and  the  arms  provided  by  their  ances- 
tors for  avenging  such  wrongs,  consumed  before  their  eyes* 
13.  Cortez  believing,  notwithstanding  his  profession  to 
the  contrary  already  mentioned,  that  Qualpopoca  would  not 
have  ventured  to  act  without  orders  from  his  master,  was  not 
satisficld  with  the  punishment  of  the  instrument  while  the 
author  escaped  with  impunity.  Just  before  Qualpopoca  urad 
led  out  to  suffer,  Cortez  entered  the  apartment  of  Montezu- 
ma, followed  by.some  of  his  officers,  and  a  isoldier  carrying  d 
pair  of  fetters ;  and  approaching  the  monarch  with  a  sterii 
countenance,  told  him  that  the  petsons  who  were  now  going 
to  suffer,  had  charged  him  as  the  caude  of  the  outrage  that 
was  committed ;  and  that  it  was  necessary  that  he  likewise 
should  make  atonement  for  that  giiilt ;  without  waiting  for 
a  reply,  he  commanded  his  soldiers  to  put  the  fetters  on  his 
legs— «the  orders  were  instantly  obeyed.  The  monarch,  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  have  his  person  acknowledged  as 
sacred  and  inviolable,  considering  this  profanation  of  it  as  a 
prelude  to  his  death,  broke  out  intb  loud  lamentations  and 
complaints.  Hi?  attend^ts  fell  at  his  feet,  and  bathed  them 
with  their  tears,  bearing  up  the  fetters  in  their  hands  with 
officious  tenderness,  to  lighten  their  pressure.  When  Cortez 
returned  from  the  execution,  he  appeared  with  a  cheerful 
countenance ;  and  ordered  the  fetters  to  be  taken  off.  As 
Montezuma's  spirits  had  sunk  with  unmanly  dejection,  they 
now  rose  to  indecent  exultation ;  and  he  passed  at  once  from 
the  anguish  of  despair  to  transports  of  joy  and  fondness  to- 


What  was  doile  with  Qualpopoei  ?— What  indignity  was  offbred  te 
Montdsiima  at  iht  Mune  time  ? 


^^gtiMllimttilm 


.''  '"'  nwJU-iiij.v 


t'l 


w 


im 


CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 


wards  his  deliverers.  The  spirits  of  Mbntezuma  were  now 
subdued ;  and  Cortez  availed  himself  to  the  utmost  of  the 
power  he  had  acquired  over  him* 


CONQUEST  OF  MfiXICO. 

1.  CoRTEZ,  although  master  of  the  Mexican  capital,  and 
of  the  person  of  the  monarch,  was  now  threatened  with  new 
danger.  Velasques  hearing  of  his  success,  aiid  enraged  at 
seeing  his  own  authority  rejected,  fitted  out  from  Cuba  an 
arinament  of  18  vessels,  having  80  cavalry,  800  infantry,  and 
IS  pieces  of  cannon,  under  the  command  of  Pamphilo  de  Nar- 
Vaez,  who  had  orders  to  seize  Cortez  and  his  principal  offi- 
cers, to  send  them  to  hini  in  irons,  and  to  complete  the  con- 
quest. Cortez  now  saw  himself  in  a  more  difficult  situation 
than  ever,  being  under  the  necessity  of  taking  the  field,  not 
against  unskilful  Indians,  but  agamst  an  army,  in  courage 
aiid  discipline  equal  to  his  own,  in  numbers  far  superior,  and 
commanded  by  an  officer  of  distinguished  bravery.  Cortez, 
aware  of  the  dangers  which  presented  themselves  on  aV 
sides,  endeavored  to  accommodate  matters  with  Narvaez; 
who  treated  his  overtures  with  contempt,  holding  it  impossi- 
ble that  Cortez  should  be  able  to  resist  his  power. — Presump- 
tion always  leads  to  mischievous  consequences ;  in  the  pre- 
sent instance,  it  gave  Cortez  a  complete  victory  over  his  ene- 
mies. Narvaez  was  wounded,  made  prisoner,  and  thrown 
into  fetters ;  his  army  capitulated,  and  quietly  submitted  to 
their  conquerors. 

2.  Cortez  treated  the  vanquished  in  the  most  generous 
manner,  giving  them  their  choice,  either  of  entering  into  his 
service,  or  of  returning  to  Cuba.  Most  of  them  chose  the 
former;  and  Cortez,  when  he  least  expected  such  fortune, 
saw  no  less  than  1000  Spaniards  arranged  under  hi^  banner. 
With  this  reinforcement  he  marched  back  to  Mexico,  where 
his  presence  was  extremely  necessary.  Afler  so  much  inde- 
cision, the  Mexicans  now  appeared  to  have  .resolved  on  the 


With  what  now  dangers  was  Cort<>z  threatened,  afler  once  being  in 
possession  of  Mo&tezuma  and  Mexico  ? — How  did  he  treat  the  Spa- 
niards that  he  conquei  3d  ?— How  many  Spaniards  had  Cortez  under  his 
banner,  on  the  accession  of  the  army  of  Narvaez  f. . 


-..^     ,-■   .^VHtiL'-i'-. 


iPf  ..•;!'*« 


CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 


180 


extermination  of  their  enemi^.  They  took  their  arms^  and 
attacked  the  Spanish  quarters  in  such  formidable  numbers, 
and  with  such  undaunted  courage,  that  although  the  artillery 
pointed  against  their  tumultuous  crowds  swept  down  multi- 
tudes at  every  discharge,  the  impetuosity  of  the  attack  did 
not  abate.  Fresh  bodies  of  men  incessantly  rushed  forward 
to  occupy  the  places  of  the  slain,  and  all  the  valor  of  the 
Spaniards  was  barely  sufficient  to  prevent  them  from  forcing 
their  way  into  the  fortifications.  ^,. 

3.  Cortez  was  astonished  at  the  desperate  ferocity  bf  a 
people,  who  seemed  at  first  to  submit  m  patiently  to  a  fo- 
reign yoke.  He  made  from  the  quarters  two  desperate  sallies ; 
but  although  numbers  of  the  Mexicans  fell,  and  part  of  the 
city  was  burned,  he  gained  no  permanent  advantage ;  and 
besides  being  wounded  himself,  lost  twelve  of  his  soldiers,  a 
serious,  affair  at  that  time,  when,  in  his  circumstances,  the 
life  of  a  Spaniard  was  so  valuable.  No  resource  was  liow 
hh  but  to  make  use  of  the  influence  of  the  captive  emperor, 
in  order  to  quell  the  insurrection.  Montezuma  was  brought, 
in  regal  pomp,  to  the  battlement,  and  was  compelled  toad- 
dress  the  people.  But  their  fury  rose  above  all  restraint.  Vol- 
leys of  arrows  and  stones  poured  in  upon  the  ramparts,  and 
the  unfortunate  prince  being  wounded  in  the  head  by  a  stone, 
fell  to  the  ground.  The  Mexicans,  as  soon  as  they  saw  their 
emperor  fall,  were  struck  with  sudden  remorse,  and  fled  in 
precipitation  and  horror,  as  if  they  supposed  themselves  pur- 
sued by  the  vengeance  of  heaven  for  their  crime.  Monte- 
zuma was  carried  by  the  Spaniards  to  his  apartments ;  but  be- 
ing now  become  w^ary  of  life,  he  tore  the  bandages  from  his 
wounds ;  and  obstinately  refusing  to  take  any  nourishment, 
expired  in  a  few  days. 

4.  The  death  of  Montezuma  loosed  the  Mexicans  from 
the  restraints  which  their  veneration  for  his  person  and  dig- 
nity had  imposed  on  their  actions.  A  war  of  extermination 
was  the  immediate  consequence ;  and  afler  various  attacks, 
in  which  the  Mexicahs  showed  the  most  daring  resolution, 
and  had  even  at  one  time  seized  Cortez,  and  were  near  car- 
rying him  off,  the  Spaniards  found  it  necessary  to  retreat 
from  a  situation,  in  which  they  must  be  finally  overwhelmed 


Wliat  WM  the  end  of  Montozuma  ? 


^  loo 


"  ■  '^'<wm  ■nsp*'?"^- w*»''j'';'',5(  j  • 


■•.'.•Wt--"  '■ 


^  COHatH^T  OF  BtiXlCO. 


I^j  thci  imlxijepte  multitudes  Und  iiicessant  attacks  of  Iheii' 
6li,eitiies.  Tliis  pfieastlf e,  however,  wais  not  effected  wi^hoat 
extreme  difficulty.  The  Mexicans,  astonished  at  the  repeat- 
ed effSaiU  of  Spanish  ya)pt,  had  now  changed  thej|r  sjstetnof 
hostility ;  atjid  instead  of  incessant  attacks,  had  adopted  the 
measute  of  breiiking  the  causeways,  and  barricading  the 
streets,  in  order  to  ciit  off  all  communications  between  tlic 
Spaniards  atid  the  country.  ^ 

5  A  retreat  from  Mexico,  however,  being  now  ^  measure 
of  absolute  necessity,  it  was  efibcted  in  the  night,  but  not 
without  grjB^t  loiss ;  for  the  Mexicans,  from  whom  tiieir  pre- 

EaratiOns  could  not  be  cbncealed,  had  not  only  broken  the 
ridgos,  anct  ms^de  bre&ehes  in  the  causeways,  but  attacked 
i^em  on  all  sided  from  the  lake.  All  Mexico  was  in  arms, 
and  the  Iak0  was^cover^d  with  canoes.  The  Spaniards, 
crowded  together  on  the  iianow  causeway^  wer0  hemmed  iif 
OH  evciry  side,  and,  weai'ied  with  Jslaughtei^^  were  unable  to 
bear  up  against  the  weight  of  the  torrent  that  poured  in 
iipon  them  ;  the  confusion  was  universal;  and  the  tremen- 
dous sounds  of  thfe  warlike  instruments  of  tho  Mexicans,  with 
the  shouts  of  their  barbarian  multitudes,  geive  additional  hor?' 
ror  to  the  s<i^ne.  Cortez,  with  part  of  his  soldiers,  broke 
through  the  enetny ;  but  numbers,  overwhelmed  by  th6  mut 
titiides  of  aggressors.  Were  either  killed  on  the  causeway,  or 
pj^rished,  in  the  lake ;  While  others,  whom  the  Mexicans  had 
taken  alive,  were  dragged  away  in  triuthph  to  be  sacrificed  to 
the  god  of  \vai^.. 

6.  In  this  fatal  tetreat,  liot-less  than  h&lf  6f  the  Spaiiiards, 
with  sLbove  2000  Ilascalans,  were  killed  ;  and  all  the  artillery, 
ammuriitioil,  and  baggage,  were  completely  lost,  l^he  whole 
empire  was  iiow  in  arms ;  and  Cortez,  haying  reviewed  his 
shattered  btlttalions,  cOhtinued  his  retreat  towards  Uascala, 
the  Only  place  where  he  could  hope  for  a  friendly  reception. 
He  met  with  ilo  opposition  till  he  reached  the  valley  of  Otum* 
ba,  whdte  the  whole  force  of  the  Mexicans  was  6oncentrated. 
When  the  Spaniards  had  reached  the  summit  of  an  emi- 
nence, they  &avv  the  dpacious  valley  through  which  tHey  were 
obliged  to  pass,  covered  with  ah  army  that  extetided  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach j  and  appeared  to  b^  innuiti^rable.  At 
the  sight  of  this  immense  multitude,  the  Spaniards  wer^  as- 
topished,  and  even  the  boldest  were  inclined  to  despair. 
7'  But  Cortez i  without  allowing  lime  for  th«!?r  fears  to 


CONQUEST  (^MEXICO. 


191 


gain  stefiligth  irom  reHection,  briefly  reminded  them  that  no 
alternative  remained  but^to  conqqer  or  die,  and  instantly  led 
them  to  the  charge.  The  Mexicans  waited  their  approach 
with  inflexible  firmness ;  and  notwithstanding  the  superiority 
of  European  discipline  and  arms,  the  Spaniards,  though  sue- 
c^»sful  in  every  attack,  were  ready  to  sink  under  the  repeat- 
ed eflbrta  of  innumerable  multitudes.  But  Gortez  observinig 
the  great  standard  of  the  empire,  which  was  carried  before 
th^  Mexican  general,  and  recollecting  to  have  heard  that  on 
its  fate  the  iisuci  of  every  battle  depended,  put  himself  at  the 
hdad  of  a  few  of  his  bravest  officers,  and  pushed  forward  vrith 
an  impetuosity  that  bore  down  all  before  it  to  the  place 
\ifhfix<^  he  saw  it  displayed.  Cortez  having  brought  the  Mexi- 
ca,n  general  to  the  ground  with  a  stroke  of  Ins  lance,  the 
80lect  body  of  his  guards  was  broken,  and  the  imperial  stand- 
ard was  taken.  The  moment  that  the  standard  disappeared, 
the  Mexicans  were  struck  with  an,  universal  panic,  and  fled 
with  pi'ecipitation. 

6.  Thci  day  after  the  battle  of  Otumba,  the  Spaniards 
reached  the  territories  of  the  Uascalans,  their  allies,  who  be- 
ilig  implatiable  enemied  io  the  Mexican  nan)e,  continued 
faithful  to  Cortez  in  this  reverse  of  his  fortune.  Here  he  had 
an  interval  of  rest  and  tranquillity,  that  was  extremely  neces- 
sary for  curing  the  woundea|  itmd  for  recruiting  the  strength 
of  his  soldier^)  exhausted  by  a  long  series  of  hardships  and 
fatigue*  During  this  suspension  of  military  operations,  Cor- 
tez recruited  his  battalions  with  180  adventurers  newly  arriv- 
ed from  Spain  and  the  islands,  and  obtained  possession  of 
some  artillery,  and  ammunition,  which  had  been  sent  by 
Velasques  for  the  use  of  the  army  of  Narvael^  and  had  been 
seized  by  the  ofHoers,  whom  Cortez  had  left  in  command  at 
Vera  Cri  z.  The  Spanish  general,  having  received  thete  re^ 
inforcemeiits,  resolved  to  re^commence  the  ivar,  ^nd  attempt 
the  reduction^  of  Mexico.  But  as  he  knew  this  to  be  impraO'^ 
ticable,  iinlesd  he  could  secure  the  command  of  the  lake,  he 
gave  orders  to  prepare,  in  the  mountains  of  Ilascala,  materi<^ 
als  for  constructing  twelvci  brigantines.  Which  were  to  be  car-^ 


tiow  did  Cortez  succeed  in  disperAing  the  Mexicahi  at  th6  vaU#y 
of  Otumba  ?— What  method  did  UoHet  adopt,  When  at  llaioala,  to  m« 
cure  the  cuminand  of  th«  laki  ? 

18 


,^umimm 


m 


■Plf 


f03 


CONQUEST  OP  MEXICO. 


tied  thtther  in  pieces,  ready  to  be  put  together  and  laonchec 
when  their  service  should  be  found  necessary. 

9.  On  the  28th  of  December,  1520,  Cortez  began  his  se- 
cond march  toward  Mexico,  at  the  head  of  550  Spanish  foot, 
and  40  horse,  with  10,000  Ilascalans,  and  a  train  of  nine 
field  pieces.  The  Mexicans,  however,  were  not  unprepared 
for  his  reception.  On  the  death  of  Montezuma,  their  nobili- 
ty, in  whom  the  right  of  electing  the  emperor  appears  to  have 
been  vested,  had  raised  his  brother  Quetlavaca  to  the  throne. 
This  prince  had  displayed  his  courage  and  abilitiies  in  direct- 
ing those  attacks  that  obliged  the  Spaniards  to  retreat  from 
his  capitid ;  and  he  took  the  most  prudent  and  rigorous  mea- 
sures for  preventing  their  return ;  but  while  he  was  arrang- 
ing his  pliins  of  defence,  with  an  unusual  degree  of  foresight, 
he  died  of  the  small-pox,  a  disorder  unknown  in  America 
until  it  was  introduced  by  the  Europeans.  In  his  stead  the 
Mexicans  elected  Guatimozin,  nephew  and  son-in-law  of 
Montezuma,  a  young  prince  of  distinguished  reputation  for 
abilities  and  valor. 

1 0.  The  brigantities  were  now  put  together  and  launclied, 
aud  every  preparation  was  made  for  the  siege.  Operations 
were  speedily  commenced,  and  the  Mexicans  displaced  valor 
hardly  inferior  to  that  with  which  the  Spaniards  attacked 
theni.  The  siege  viras  long,  and  attended  with  heavy  loss 
on  both  sides.  On  land,  on  water,  by  night  and  by  day, 
one  furious  conflict  continually  succeeded  to  another.  At 
length  it  was  resolved  to  make  one  desperate  attack,  and 
Cortez,  with  a  portion  of  his  brave  comrades,  pui^hed  forward 
virith  an  impetuosity  that  bore  down  all  opposition,  and  Con- 
tinuing to  gain  ground,  forced  their  way  into  the  city.  Gua- 
timozin, seeing  the  Spaniards  within  his  capital,  gave  the 
^ighal,  and  the  priests  in  the  principal  temj^e  struck  the 
great  drum  consecrated  to  the  god  of  war.  No.  sooner  did 
the  Mexicans  hear  the  doleful  solemn  sound,  calculated  to 
inspire  them  with  a  contempt  of  death  and  an  enthusiastic 
ardor,  than  they  rushed  on  the  enemy  With  frantic  rage. 

11.  The  Spaniards,  unable  to  resist  men,  urged  on  no 
(esf  by  religious  fury  than  hope  of  success,  were  obliged  to 


Who  «i*at  «Iocted  ylitieeasoi'  to  Montezuma  ? — And  who  to  QMtl«> 
vaca? 


mmum 


CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 


108 


retire  with  the  greatest  precipitation  ;  and  in  the  scene  of 
confusion  which  ensued,  six  Mexican  captains  having  seized 
upon  Gortez,  were  carrying  him  oiF,  when  two  of  his  officers 
rescued  him  at  the  expense  of  their  own  lives,  hut  not  till  after 
he  had  received  several  dangerous  wounds.  Above  sixty  Spa* 
niards  perished  in  this  retreat  out  of  Mexico ;  and  what  add- 
ed to  their  misfortune,  forty  of  them  fell  alive  into  the 
hands  of  an  enemy  never  known  to  show  mercy  to  a  ca[>- 
tive.  Night  coming  on,  every  quarter  of  the  city  was  illu- 
minated^ and  the  Mexican  priests  were  busy  in  hastening  the 
preparations  for  the  death  of  the  prisoners.  It  was  a  barba- 
rous triumph— it  was  a  horrid  festival !  And  the  Spaniards 
could  distinctly  hear  the  shrieks  of  those  who  were  sacrificed, 
and  thought  they  could  distinguish  each  unhappy  victim  by 
the  well  known  sound  of  his  voice. 

12.  The  Mexicans,  elated  with  their  victory,  sallied  out 
next  morning  to  attack  Cortez  in  his  quarters.  But  they  did 
not  rely  on  the  efforts  of  their  Own  arms  alone.  They  sent 
the  heads  of  the  Spaniards  whom  they  had  sacrificed  to-  the 
leading  men  in  the  adjacent  provinces,  and  assured  them 
that  the  god  of  war,  appeased  by  the  blood  of  their  invaders, 
had  declared,,  with  an  audible  voice,  that  in  eight  days  tiihe 
those  hated  enemies  should  be  finally  destroyed,  and  peace 
and  prosperity  established  in  the  empire.  A  prediction  ut> 
tered  with  such  confidence  gained  universal  credit.  The 
zeal  of  those  who  had  already  declared  against  the  Spa^ 
niai'ds  augmented ;  and  those  who  had  hitherto  been  inactive, 
took  arms  witli  enthusiastic  ardor  to  execute  the  decree  m 
the  gods.  The  Indian  auxiliaries  who  had  joined  Cortez 
abandoned  his  army  as  a  race  of  men  devoted  to  certain  de- 
struction; Even  the  fidelity  of  the  Ilascalans  was  shaken, 
and  the  Spanish  troops  were  left  almost  alone  in  their  sta- 
tions. Cortez  immediately  suspended  all  military  operations 
for  the  period  marked  out  by  the  oracle.  Under  cover  of  the 
brigantines,  which  kept  the  enemy  at  a  distance,  his  troops 
lay  on  the  lake  in  safety,  and  the  fatal  term  expired  without 
any  disaster. 

13.  Many  of  his  allies,  ashamod  of  their  own  credulity, 
now  returned  to  their  station.     Other  tribes,  judging  that  the 


What  circumatrnce  for  a  time  :au3ed  the  alUef  of  Cortex  to  forwA* 
him? 


m 


CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 


gods,  who  had  thus  deceivedthe  Mexicans,  had  decreed  finally 
to  withdraw  thoir  protection  from  them,  joined  his  standard ; 
and  so  striking  was  the  levity  of  this  simple  people,  moved 
by  every  slight  impression,  that  in  a  short  time  after  such 
a  defection  of  his  confederates,  Cortez  saw  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  hundried  and  fifty  thousand  Indians.  Notwith- 
standing this  immense  force,  Cortez  proceeded  against  the 
city  with  the  greatest  caution;  nor  could  he  make  any  im- 
pression, till  the  stores  which  Guatimozin  had  laid  up  were 
isxhausted  by  the  multitudes  which  had  crowded  into  the 
capital  to  defend  their  sovereign  and  the  temples  of  their 
gods.  Then  people  of^  all  ranks  felt  the  utmost  distresses  of 
famine*  But  under  the  pressure  of  so  many  and  such  vari- 
ous evils,, the  spirit  of  Guatimozin  remained  firm  and  unsul>> 
dued.  He  rejected  with  scorn  every  overture  of  peace  from , 
Cortez ;  and  disdaining  the  idea  of  dtibmitting  to  the  op- 
pressors of  his  ikiuntry,  determined  not  to  survive  its  ruin. 
At  the  earnest  solicitation  of  several  of  his  chiefs  he  attempt* 
ed  to  escape,  but  was  taken  by  thi^  Spaniards.  When 
brought  before  Cortez  he  appeared  with  a  dignified  counte- 
nance-—" I  have  done,"  said  he,  '*  what  became  a  monarch* 
I  have  defended  my  people  to  the  last  extremity.  Nothing 
now  remains  but  to  die.  ^ake  this  dagger^**  laying  his  hand 
on  one  which  Cortez  worci,  ''plant  it  in  my  breast,  and  put 
an  end  to  a  life  which  can,  no  longer  be  useful  to  my  coun- 

14.  Ais  soon  as  the  Capture  of  the  emperor  was  known, 
the  resistance  of  the  fileiicans  ceased,  and  Cortez  took  po»* 
session  of  the  ismall  part  of  the  city  that  was  not  destroyed. 
The  Spaniards,  as  may  be  expected,  were  elated  with  joy,  by 
the  completion  of  their  difilicult  conquest,  and  the  expecta- 
tion of  sharing  immense  spoils^  But  in  the  latter  respect 
they  we)re  miserably  disappointed.  Guatimozin,  foreseeing 
his  impending  fate,  had  caused  all  the  riches  amassed  by  his 
ancestors  to  be  thrown  into  the  lake,  and,  instead  of  becptn- 
ing  masters  of  the  treasures  of  Montezuma,  and  the  spoils 
of  the  temples,  t*^e  conquerors  could  collect  only  a  small 
booty,  amidst  the  ruins  of  a  general  desolation.     The  Spa* 


.  What  induced  the  allies  of  Cortez  tb  return  to  him  ?— -How  many 
indialis  had  he  in  hig  last  attdck  on  Mexico  ?— rWhat  disappointment 
did  th6  Spatiiards  experience  on  the  conquest  oif  Mexico  ? 


^71 


T..'*U.-'.'P\'. 


^^ 


CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 


itm 


niards  exclaimed  loudly  against  their  general,  whom  they  8u»- 
pected  of  appropriating  the  greatest  part  of  the  spoils  to  his 
own  use,  as  well  as  against  Guatimozin,  whom  they  accused 
of  obstinately  concealing  his  treasures.  In  order  to  allay 
this  ferment,  Cortez  consented  to  a  deed  that  sullied  all  the 
glory  of  his  former  actions.  He  suffered  the  royal  captive, 
with  his  principal  minister,  to  be  put  to  the  rack,  in  order  to 
oblige  him  to  discover  the  place  where  his  riches  were  con- 
cealed. The  unhappy  monarch  bore  his  sufferings  with  all 
the  firmness  of  a  hero,  till  Cortez,  ashamed  of  so  horrid  a 
scene,  rescued  the  royal  victim  from  the  hands  of  his  tortu- 
rers. The  unfortunate  Guatimozin,  however,  was  only  re- 
served for  further  indignities.  Some  time  afterwards,  bus* 
pected  by  Cortez  of  forming  a  scheme  to  throw  off  the  Spa- 
nish yoke,  he  and  two  other  persons  of  the  greatest  eminence 
in  the  empire  were  condemned  to  be  hanged. 

15.  The  fate  of  the  capital,  as  both  parties  had  foreseen, 
decided  that  of  the  empire.  The  provinces  submitted,  one 
after  another,  to  the  conquerors.  It  was  not  without  difficul- 
ty, however,  that  they  were  reduced  to  the  form  of  a  Spanish 
colony.  And,  to  the  everlasting  infamy  of  the  conquerors, 
they  affected  to  consider  every  effort  of  the  Mexicans  to  as- 
sert their  own  independence,  as  the  rebellipn  of  vassals 
against  their  sovereign,  or  the  mutiny  of  slaves  against  their 
master.  Under  the  sanction  of  those  ill-founded  maxims, 
they  reduced  the  common  people  in  the  provinces  to  the  most 
humiliating  of  all  conditions,  that  of  personal  servitude. 
Their  chiefs  were  punished  with  greater  severity*  and  put  to 
death  by  the  most  excruciating  tortures.  In  almost  every 
district  of  the  Mexican  empire,  the  progress  of  the  Spanish 
arms  is  marked  with  blood,  and  with  deeds  so  atrocious  as 
disgrace  the  enterprising  valour  that  conducted  them  to  suc- 
cess. In  the  country  of  Panuco,  sixty  caziques,  and  four 
hundred  nobles,  were  burnt  at  one  time ;  and  to  complete  the 
horror  of  the  scene,  the  children  and  relatives  of  the  wretch- 
ed victims  were  assembled,  and  compelled  to  be  spectators  of 
their  dying  agonies. 


To  what  disgracefhl  act  did  Cortez  submit  to  satisfy  them  ? — What 
beeame  of  Guatimozin  ? 


18t 


^^^^uuju^ 


tc  ..'.   .v  ..i;..v... 


mm 


mmm 


"f^ir^iir^m 


"T" 


^•tW^PHI"^ 


190 


VICTORY. 


VICTORY. 

Waft  not  to  me  the  blast  of  fame/ 
That  swells  the  trump  of  victory ; 

For  to  my  ear  it  gives  the  name 
Of  slaughter  and  of  misery. 

Boast  not  so  much  of  honor's  sword ; 

Wave  not  so  high  the  victor's  plume  ; 
They  point  me  to  the  bosom  gor'd — 

They  point  me  to  the  blood-stained  tombw 

The  boastful  shout,  the  revel  loud, 
That  strive  to  drown  the  voice  of  pain ; 

What  are  they,  but  the  fickle  crowd, 
Rejoicing  o*er  their  brethren  slain  ? 

And  ah !  through  glory's  fading  blaze, 

I  see  the  cottage  taper,  pale, 
Which  sheds  its  Siint  and  feeble  rays, 

Where  unprotected  orphans  wail- 
Where  the  sad  widow  weeping  stands. 

As  if  her  da^   if  hope  was  done— 
Where  the  wilu  mother  clasps  her  handis, 

And  asks  the  victor  for  her  son— 

Where  the  lone  maid,  in  secret,  sighs 
O'er  the  lost  solace  of  her  heart. 

As  prostrate,  in  despair,  she  lies. 
And  feels  her  tortur'd  life  depart  !— 

Where,  midst  that  desolated  land, 
The  sire,  lamenting  o'er  his  son. 

Extends  his  weak  and  powerless  hand 
And  finds  its  only  prop  is  gone. 

See,  how  the  bands  of  war  and  wo 
Have  rifled  sweet  domestic  bliss ; 

And  tell  me,  if  your  laurels  grow. 
And  flourish  in  a  soil  like  this  ! 


■■«■ 


mmm^_ 


iuiiii 


ifc^dikhiir--  ■■^'-■-  '-'■•'    ■     '■■''-: .::..■■,■■■ -.i^'-a,.;^:.. 


^^Il^^ 


- •-  '  ■-"'■ 


"''-•■ -^-  -''■■■■  ^^jjiitoiittrfiatt 


>i^:-^ 


i:.     •./ 


v^te::. 


>  »  /    '^^^^^^o^     ' 


•'■'is!-;* 


^:i 


^S^«^CU^'^*''"t??^*r'j2 


XriSSi 


WILLIAM  WALLACE  AffD  THE  TWO  FRIARS. 


MMMH 


WILLIAM  WALLACE. 


107 


iccrsa 


.RS. 


WILLIAM  WALLACE. 

1.  An  obscure  individual,  of  no  high  rank,  and  of  still 
less  fortune,  rose  to  assert  the  honor  and  independence  of 
his  country,  while  the  nobles  and  grandees  of  the  kingdom, 
divided  into  factions,  or  adhering  to  the  conqueror,  seemed 
desirous  of  perpetuating  its  slavery.  That  strenuous  patriot, 
but  barbarous  warrior,  William  Wallace,  to  whom  many  fa- 
bulous exploits  are  ascribed,  but  who  in  reality  possessed  all 
the  valor  of  Achilles,  joined  to  the  prudence  of  Ulysses,  and 
in  these  two  respects  merited  the  pen  of  a  Homer  to  cele- 
brate his  actions,  ventured,  almost  sin^rVy,  to  attack  the  co- 
lossal power  of  the  conqueror.  His  band  of  troops  was  so 
inconsiderable,  and  his  progress  so  rapid,  that  the  boldness 
and  success  of  his  enterp"^.^)  are  equally  astonishing.  His 
army,  however,  was  daily  increased  by  the  numbers  whom 
success  allured  to  his  standard. 

2.  Having  in  a  very  short  time  recovered  all  the  places 
which  the  English  had  held  in  their  possession,  except  the 
single  town  of  Berwick,  his  courage  and  conduct  raised  him 
80  high  in  the  esteem  of  the  army,  that  he  was,  by  a  kind  of 
military  election,  declared  regent  of  the  kingdom.  Edward, 
who  l^ad  engaged  in  a  war  with  France,  and  was  at  that  time 
in  Flanders,  agreed  with  the  French  King  to  refer  their  dif- 
ference to  the  arbitration  of  po|)e  Boniface  VIII ;  and  re- 
turning home,  turned  all  his  attention  to  quell  the  Scottiish 
revolt.  Having  entered  Scotland,  he  advanced  to  Falkirk, 
where  he  met  the  enemy's  irmy,  conducted  by  Wallace,  and 
an  obstinate  battle  again  decided  the  fate  of  th^  kingdom. 
Although  Edward  had  two  of  his  ribs  broken  by  a  fall  from 
his  horse,  in  the  beginning  of  the  engagement,  he  kept  the 
field,  and  commanded  with  the  same  presence  of  mind  as  if 
no  accident  had  happened.  The  contest  was  obstinate  and 
bloody,  but  the  issue  was  fatal  to  the  Scots,  whose  ferocious, 
but  undisciplined  bands,  Were  not  a  match  for  Edward's  ve- 
teran troops. 

3.  Wallace  was  defeated  with  so  prodigious  a  slaughter, 
that,  according  to  some  authors,  the  Scots  lost  60,000  men, 
while  others  reduce  the  number  to  10,000,  exhibiting,  in 


To  what  office  did  Wallace's  courage  and  success  raise  him  ? — ^What 
HI  said  to  have  been  the  loss  of  the  Scots  at  the  battle  of  Falkirk  ? 


MiiiMgHa 


■  ■(^'"'ii.:  -    ■-    ■-■'. 


HP"" 


196 


WILLI /IM  WALLACE. 


»iil 


*,?i. 


Ji-.V< 


theii  4X>ntradictory  narratives,  another  of  those  innumerabla 
instajices  of  the  uncertainty  of  all  circumstantial  accounts, 
especially  in  regard  to  numerical  statements.  All  that  can 
with  certainty  be  said,  is,  that  the  slaughter  of  the  Scots  was 
dreadful,  and  Edward's  victory  complete.  Improving  his 
advantages,  he  recovered  all  the  places  of  strength  as  rapidly 
as  they  had  been  lost ;  and  may,  on  this  occasion,  be  said  tc 
have  a  second  time  conquered  Scotland.  Wallace,  with  a 
few  faithful  followers,  retired  among  the  mountains  and 
marshes,  which  nature  had  rendered  inaccessible  to  ar- 
mies ;  and,  perceiving  that  his  patriotic  exertions  inspired 
the  nobles  with  jealousy,  rather  than  emulation,  he  resigned 
the  regency. 

4.  Comyn  was,  on  his^  resignation,  declared  regent,  an 
office  at  that  time  of  little  consequence,  as  it  gave  him  au- 
thority over  only  a  small  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  a  few 
scattered  troops,  who  had  escaped  from  the  late  batde. 
Through  the  mediation  of  Philip,  king  of  France,  a  truce 
for  seven  months  was  procured  for  such  of  the  Scots  as  re> 
fused  to  submit  to  Edward's  authority.  This  gave  the  new 
regent  an  opportunity  of  exciting  the  barons  to  shake  off  the 
English  yoke.  Roused  by  his  exhortations,  both  the  nobles 
and  people  immediately  ilew  to  arms.  In  a  short  time,  all 
Scotland  rose  as  one  mail,  the  whole  mass  of  the  inhabitants, 
in  the  towns,  and  in  the  country,  taking  arms  the  same  day, 
and  almost  at  the  same  hour.  The  English  garrisons,  being 
every  where  attacked  at  the  same  motnent,  in  so  furious  a 
manner,  that  all  resistance  was  ineffectual,  had  no  other  al- 
ternative than  that  of  being  put  to  the  sword,  or  of  surren- 
dering on  condition  of  immediately  evacuating  the  kingdom. 

5.  This  general  revolt,  which  happened  about  the  end  of 
the  year  1299,  induced  Edward  to  march  early  in  the  ensu- 
ing spring,  and  a  third  time  to  enter  Scotland.  The  Scot- 
tish army,  which  consisted  only  of  an  ill-armed  and  undisci- 
plined militia,  not  able  to  stand  against  Edward's  veteran 
army,  retired  at  his  approach.  The  king,  however,  with  his 
usual  promptitude,  pursued,  overtook,  and  routed  them,  in  a 
decisive  engagement.    The  shattered  remains  of  their  forces 

What  induced  Wallace  to  resign  the  .egency  of  Scotland  ? — Who 
was  declared  his  successor  ? — Through  whose  mediation  was  a  truce 
between  England  and  Scotland  effected  ?-— In  what  year  did  the  re* 
roll  of  the  Soots  under  Comyn  take  place  i* 


aim 


mipiPMMHIiP 


WILLIAM  WALLACE. 


199 


innumerable 
tial  accounts, 

All  that  can 
the  Scots  was 
mproving  his 
gth  as  rapidly 
on,  be  said  to 
'allace,  with  a 
ountains  and 
issible  to  ar- 
tions  inspired 
ii  he  resigned 

ed  regent,  an 
gave  him  au- 
)m,  and  a  few 
e  late  battle, 
'ranee,  a  truce 
le  Scots  as  re- 
gave  the  new 
3  shake  off  the 
oth  the  nobles 
short  time,  all 
ie  inhabitants, 
the  same  day, 
arrisons,  being 
in  so  furious  a 
id  no  other  al- 
,  or  of  surren- 
[  the  kingdom, 
out  the  end  of 
y  in  the  ensu- 
The  Scot, 
d  and  unuisci- 
vard's  veteran 
irever,  with  his 
ted  them,  in  a 
of  their  forcea 

Scotland  ?— Who 

ition  was  a  truce 

year  did  the  re- 


retreated  into  the  marshes,  which  were  known  only  to  the 
natives,  and  amidst  which  the  conquerors  durst  not  continue 
their  pursuit.  Despairing  of  any  good  effects  from  further 
resistance,  the  Scots  had  now  recourse  to  negotiation  and  en- 
treaties ;  but  the  inexorable  Edward,  rejecting  all  offers  of 
reconciliation,  and  insisting  on  unconditional  submission, 
they  put  themselves  and  their  country  under  the  papal 
protection,  and  made  Boniface  VIII.  an  offer  of  the  sove- 
reignty. 

6.  This  produced  a  brief  from  the  pope  to  Edward,  exhi- 
biting  his  own  claim  to  the  crown  of  Scotland.  The  English 
monarch  as^iembled  a  parliament  at  Lincoln,  for  the  purpose 
of  deliberating  on  the  pretensions  of  the  Roman  see.  The 
papal  brief  was  answered  by  a  manifesto,  asserting  that  Eng> 
land  possessed,  from  time  immemorial,  the  right  of  sove- 
reignty over  Scotland.  This  manifesto  of  the  parliament, 
was  followed  by  a  memorial  from  the  king,  in  justification  of 
his  measures ;  in  which,  if  he  could  not  equal  the  pope  in 
sanctity,  he  resolved  to  outdo  him  in  antiquity.  Improving 
on  that  presented  to  the  Scottish  barons  at  Norham,  in  which 
he  carried  his  claim  ho  higher  than  Edward,  the  father  of 
Athelstan,  he  now  derived  it  fiom  Brutus,  the  first  fabulous 
king  of  Britain,  and  traced  it  through  the  reigns  of  all  the 
fictitious  monarchs,  with  whose  names  and  exploits  Geoffrey 
of  Monmouth  had  embellished  his  historical  romance. 

7.  This  letter  being  written  in  the  most  respectful  manner, 
without  any  expressions  that  could  be  offensive  to  his  holi- 
ness, the  difference  between  Edward  and  the  pope  was  ac- 
commodated, and,  a^  the  solicitation  of  the  French  king,  the 
truce  with  the  revolted  Scots  Avas  prolonged.  At  its  expira- 
tion, Edward  sent  Segrave,  governor  of  Berwick,  with  a 
formidable  force,  to  renew  the  war,  and  coiiplete  the  reduc- 
tion of  Scotland.  This  general,  apprehending  no  danger 
from  the  Scots,  whom  he  considered  as  unable  to  make  any 
resistance,  divided  his  army  into  three  columns,  in  order 
more  completely  to  ravage  the  country.  Meeting,  however, 
unexpectedly,  with  the  Scotch  army,  under  the  command  of 
Cornell  and  Frazer,  all  the  three  bodie«)  wero  successively 
defeated. 


When  again  subdued  by  Edward,  under  whose  'i^rotf  Jiion  did  the 
8eole  place  themselves  f 


•PfJWPIJfifJ'ipPI,'  I 


9D0 


WILLIAM  WALLAci. 


8.  In  consequence  df  thia  disaster^  Edward,  the  next  year, 
1303,  entered  the  four^  time  into  Scotland,  with  so  nume- 
rous an  army,  that  h^  penetrated  te  the  extremities  of  the 
kingdom,  and  ravaged  the  country,  without  meeting  with  any 
considerable  resistance,  the  Scots  being  unable  to  oppose  so 
formidable  a  power.  Wallace  alone,  with  a  body  of  troops, 
c6ntinually  harassed  him,  and  revenged  the  Scots  on  such 
of  the  English  soldiers  as  happened  to  stray  from  the  main 
body  of  the  army.  Stirling  castle  was  besieged  the  whole 
winter,  and  was  at  last  obliged  to  capitulate.  By  its  surren- 
der, Edward  became  master  of  all  the  fortified  places,  and, 
in  this  fourth  expedition,  completed  his  third  conquest  of 
Scotland. 

9.  A  few  determined  patriots,  however,  retreating  to  places 
inaccessible  to  hostile  approach,  still  held  the  corqueror's 
powers  at  defiance ;  but  Wallace,  the  principal  instigator  and 
8oul  of  revolt,  being  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the  English, 
was  tried,  condemned,  and  executed,  as  guilty  of  treason. 
His  head,  was,  by  Edward's  command,  placed  u^n  London 
bridge,  and  his  four  quarters  hung  up  in  the  four  principal 
towns  of  Scotland.  Here,  as  in  many  other  caiies,  we  have 
an  opportunity  of  considering  the  difficulty  of  making  a  just 
estimate  of  actions  from  the  echoes  of  common  fame,  and 
the  ipse  4iKit  of  partial  or  inconsiderate  writers.  This  ex- 
traordinary severity  to  the  Scottish  patriot  is  universally  re- 
garded as  an  indelible  blemish  on  Edward's  memory ;  but, 
if  the  cruelties  imputed  to  Wallace  had  any  foundation  in  fact, 
his  punishment  must  be  regarded  as  a  just  retribution. 

10.  Indeed,  if  the  whole  conduct  of  those  conspicuous 
characters,  who,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  ha^e  fallen  by  the 
hand  of  violence,  could  be  minutely  investigated,  they  would 
often  be  found,  although  less  fortunate,  little  less  criminal 
than  their  oppressors ;  and  the  distributive  justice  of  Provi- 
dence would  appear  more  impartially  dealt  than  superficial 
observers  can  perceive.  But  so  often  are  we  the  dupes  of 
misrepresentation,  and  so  prone  to  hasty  decision,  that  the 
illustrious  victim  of  oppression  and  violence,  who  has  him- 
self sacrificed,  at  the  shrine  of  his  ambition,  his  avarice,  or 
his  resentment,  thousands  of  inferior  celebi^y,  appears  in 

In  what  j9ht  did  Edward  «nttr  Scotland  the  fbtirth  time  ?— >What 
booamo  of  ^¥allaee  ? 


JJ  SflU'iJSBJ" 


wmm 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


$601 


our  eyes  arrayed  in  the  spotless  robes  of  innocence.  In  con- 
templating his  sufferings,  we  forget  those  which  he  his  in- 
dicted on  others.  Historians  deplore  his  fate,  and  blazon  his 
virtues,  and,  in  commemorating  his  misfortunes,  endeavor  to 
excite  an  ill-judged  compassion. 


THE  EXILE. 

Not  to  Siberia's  land  of  frost 
Was  this  devoted  exile  sent ; 

Nor  Java's  pestilential  coast — 
Severer  was  his  banishment 

Nought  could  the  kiioral  world  afford 
To  give  him  comfort,  joy,  or  rest ; 

The  ban  his  vices  had  incurrM 
Conscience  approvM  within  his  breast 

The  victim  of  a  tyrant's  power; 

Condemn'd  in  distant  climes  to  roam, 
May  sometimes  find  a  happy  hour. 

In  hopes  of  pardon  and  of  home. 

But  what  bright  hour  on  hin  shall  beam, 
Who,  bearing  an  internal  curse, ' 

Is  banish'd  from  his  own  esteem, 
To  burning  regions  of  remorse. 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 

1.  The  Scots,  so  many  times  vanquished,  as  oflen  rebe«- 
ied ;  no  disasters  could  extinguish  their  martial  genius,  nor 
bring  their  independent  minds  to  submit  to  a  foreign  yoke. 
Bruce,  the  rival  of  Baliol,  being  dead,  his  son,  Ihe  famous 
Robert  I,  resolved  to  assert,  with  his  sword,  his  claim  to  the 
crown  of  his  ancestors.  He  then  resided  at  London,  as  a 
prisoner  at  large  ;  and,  finding  that  Edward  had  received  in- 
telligence of  his  design,  immediately  made  his  escape.  Be- 
mg  arrived  in  Scotland,  and  suspecting  the  fidelity  of  Comyn, 
with  whom  he  had  concerted  his  plan,  and  maintained  a  con- 


Jiiifl!flfi.til!|l(.iU  I 


^F^^^FW^^ 


■ip^ 


203 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


Biani  correapondence,  he  met  a  messenger,  charged  with 
letters  from  that  nobleman  to  the  king. 

2.  Having  seized  the  messenger,  and  examined  his  de- 
spatches, his  suspicion?  were  confirmed.  In  consequence  of 
this  discovery,  he  repaired  to  Dumfries ;  where,  meeting  witL 
Comyn,  he  stabbed  him  with  his  own  hand.  Having  thus 
drawn  the  sworcl,  he  had  no  other  alternative  than  to  throw 
away  the  scabbard,  and,  fully  GOi|Vincpd  thai  prompt  and  de- 
cisive measures  could  alone  afford  any  hope  of  success  or 
safety,  he  assumed  the  regal  title,  and  .was  solemnly  crowned 
at  Scone.  The  new  kmg  of  Scotland  soon  dispossessed  the 
English  of  many  of  their  fortified  places ;  but  ^he  earl  of 
Pembroke,  having  entered  the  kingdom,  with  a  numerous 
army,  defeated,  him  in  two  successive  engagements. 

3.  Bruce,  b^irig  now  reduced  to  the  last  extremity,  was 
obliged  to  escape  out  of  Scotland,  and  to  take  refuge  in  the 
Hebudes,  while  Edward,  advancing  with  a  powerful  army, 
sent  out  detachments  on  all  sides,  to  seize  his  adherents,  to 
whom  no  mercy  v^as  shown.  Three  brothers  of  the  new 
king  fell  on  the  scalTold.  His  queen  being  taken,  and  sent 
into  England,  was  kept  in  close  confinement.  The  bishops 
of  Glasgow  and  St  Andrews  would  also  have  fallen  a  sacri- 
fice to  Edward's  vengeance,  had  he  not  stood  in  awe  of  the 
pope.  The,  countess  of  Buchan,  sister  of  the  ^arl  of  Fife, 
having  assisted  at  Robert's  coronation,  was  put  in  a  wooden 
cage,  and  hung  up  on  the  walls  of  Berwick,  as  an  object  of 
ridicule  to  the  people.  Mary,  the  otlier '  sister,  underwent 
the  same  fate  at  Roxburgh.  The  earl  of  Athol,  allied  to  the 
royal  families,  both  of  Scotland  and  England,  and  conse- 
quently Edward's  relative,  was  distinguished  from  the  rest, 
by  the  fatal  honor  of  being  hanged  on  a  gallows  of  an  extra- 
ordinary height.  Dreadful  instances  of  Edward's  inexorable 
severity,  and  of  thg  ferocious  spirit  of  the  times. 

4.  Edward,  having  taken  a  severe  vengeance  on  such  of 
Robert's  adherents  as  had  been  unfortunate  enough  to  fall 
into  his  hands,  retired  to  Carlisle,  where  he  summoned  the 
last  parliament  of  his  reign,  in  order  to  deliberate  on  the 
means  of  securing  the  possession  of  Scotland,  by  finally 
uniting  it  to  England.     Shortly  afler,  supposing  the  Scots 


What  caused  Bruce  to  kill  Comyn  ?<->What  waa  the  fate  of  the  earl 
of  Athol  ? 


m; 


•■■■pnsHH 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


2(15 


completely  disabled  from  making  any  further  resistance,  b« 
left  the  command  of  the  army  to  the  earl  of  Pembroke,  and 
returned  to  London,  in  order  to  concert  his  future  plans. 
Robert  no  sooner  heard  of  his  absence,  than  sallying  from 
his  retreat,  he  assembled  the  scattered  remains  of  his  army, 
reinforced  it  with  fresh  supplies,  which  the  Scotch ,  barons 
brought  from  all  quarters,  and  attacked  the  English  general, 
whom  he  totally  defeated  and  took  prisoner.  He  then  march- 
ed against  the  Earl  of  (Gloucester,  whom  he  obliged  to  re- 
treat  to  the  castle  of  Ayre,  and  afterwards  took  and  dis- 
mantled several  towns,  that  he  might  not  be  under  ,tho  ne- 
cessity of  leaving  garrisons,  as  well  as  in  order  to  prevent 
them  fro.£^  affording  any  shelter  to  the  English. 

5.  Edward,  surprised  and  exasperated  at  this  unexpected 
revolution,  summoned  all  the  barons  of  his  realm  to  meet 
him  at  Carlisle,  in  the  summer,  A.  D.  1307,  under  the  penal- 
ty of  forfeiting  their  fees,  resolving  to  draw  out  the  whole 
military  force  of  his  kingdom,  and  to  render  Scotland,  from 
one  extremity  to  the  other,  an  entire  scene  of  desolation. 
But  divine  Providence,  having  ordained  that  the  union  of  the 
two  kingdoms  should  at  last  be  effected  by  more  peaceable, 
as  well  as  more  equitable  means,  disappointed  his  sanguinary 
design.  Being  arrived  at  Carlisle,  and  ready  to  carry  fire 
and  sword  into  every;  corner  of  the  devoted  kingdom^  he  fell 
sick  of  a  dysentery,  and  soon  after  died  at  Burgh  on  the 
sands,  leaving  the  execution  of  his  projects  to  his  son  and 
successor,  to  whom  he  gave  strict  charge  never  to  grant 
peace  or  truce,  till  the  final  subjugation  of  Scotland  should 
be  accomplished. 

6.  Robert  Bruce  immediately  prepared  to  take  advantage 
of  the  consternation  of  the  English,  occasioned  by  the  death 
of  their  king ;  but  a  violent  fit  of  sickness  prevented  him 
from  carrying  his  measures  into  effect.  The  new  king  of 
England,  advancing  as  far  as  Dumfries,  struck  the  whole 
kingdom  with  terror.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  perplexity 
of  the  Scots  on  this  occasion  ;  their  king  being  dangerously 
ill,  and  their  forces,  both  in  numbers  and  discipline,  far  infe- 
rior to  those  of  the  enemy.  Edward*s  return  mto  England, 
after  leaving  the  command  of  the  army  to  John  Comyn,  a 


To  whom  did  Edward  II.  eommit  the  command  of  the  English 
•rmy? 


iHiii 


tgggijtd 


2M 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


Scotch  baron,  was  a  matter  of  surprise  to  both  kingdoms ; 
and  re-animated  the  hopes  of  the  Scots,  not  less  than  it  ex?> 
citpd  the  murmurs  of  the  English.  Nothing,  indeed,  could 
be  more  strange  than  the  conduct  of  Edward  II.,  in  thus  re- 
linquishing the  conquest  of  Scotland,  when  the  number  and 
ardor  of  his  troops,  and  king  Robert's  sickness,  promised 
him  almost  certain  success. 

7.  But  the  new  king  of  England  had  not  the  warlike  in- 
clinations of  his  predecessor;  and  the  blandishments  of  a 
court  were,  to  him,  more  alluring  than  the  hardships  and 
hazatds  of  a  campaign.  His  appointment  of  Comyn  to  the 
command,  was  also  a  subject  of  offence  to  the  army.  This 
general,  although  the  determined  enemy  of  king  Robert,  was 
a  Scot ;  and  the  English  thought  themselves  dishonored  by 
the  preference  given  to  a  foreigner.  Disaster  was  the  con- 
sequence of  these  discontents.  Comyn,  willing  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  Robert's  sicknCvSs,  whom  he  supposed  incapable 
of  heading  his  army,  advanced,  in  order  to  attack  the  Scots. 
The  latter,  though  he  found  himself  extremely  weak,  thought, 
that  in  so  critical  a  juncture,  flight  or  retreat  might  disheart- 
en his  troops,  and  eventually  occasion  tiie  loss  of  his  king- 
dom. 

8.  Having,  therefore,  mounted  his  horse,  supported  by  two 
esquires,  he  drew  up  his  army,  and,  with  a  composure  that 
produced  a  wonderful  effect,  waited  the  approach  of  the  ene- 
my. Victory  soon  declared  in  his  favor ;  and  the  defeat  of 
the  English  was  the  more  astonishing,  as,  besides  being  su- 
perior m  numbers,  they  were  the  very  same  troops  who  had 
vanquished  the  Scots  in  so  many  engagements.  But  Edward 
I.  was  no  more.  After  this  retreat,  Comyn  retired  into  Eng- 
land, and  Robert  ravaged  the  whole  county  of  Argyle,  which 
still  belonged  to  the  English.  Edward  Bruce,  his  brother, 
also  defeated  another  English  army,  in  the  county  of  Galo- 
way  ;  and  from  that  time,  the  Scots  no  longer  dreaded  the 
army  of  England. 

P  {h  Th2  troubles  of  England,  on  account  of  Gaviston,  pre- 
"^  V  hiAcd  that  court  from  paying  any  great  attention  to  the  af- 
di.  i  of  Scotland.  It  is,  however,  said  that  Edward  II.,  in 
iS07,  ilva  second  year  of  his  reign,  led  an  army  in  person 
into  Scotland ;  but  not  having  provided  for  its  subsistence, 
and  finding  the  country  laid  waste  before  him,  returned, 
without  effecting  any  thing  of  importance.     In  two  auccea- 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


%fB 


Btve  years,  1310  and  1311,  Bruce  had  made  two  desultory 
expeditions  into  England,  and  carried  off  a  great  boocy ;  and 
the  year  following,  he  recovered  Perth,  Lancrie,  Dumfries, 
and  Roxburgh.  The  Isle  of  Man  voluntarily  submitted  to 
his  dominion  ;  and  the  casHe  of  Edinburgh  being  carried  by 
assault,  he  became  master  of  all  the  fortified  places,  except 
Stirling  castle,  which  was  then  the  strongest  in  Scotland.  The 
next  year,  1313,  he  sent  his  brother  to  lay  siege  to  that  im- 
portant fortress,  which  was  vigorously  assaulted,  and  as  brave- 
ly' defended.  But  Philip  Mowbray,  the  governor,  finding  no 
methods  taken  for  his  relief,  concluded  an  agreement  with 
the  Scots,  by  which  he  engaged  to  deliver  up  the  place  at 
the  end  of  a  year,  if  not  sooner  relieved  by  reinforcements 
from  England. 

10.  This  train  of  events,  so  favorable  to  the  Scots,' and  so 
disastrous  to  their  enemies,  now  threatened  the  complete  ex- 
pulsion of  the  English,  and  roused  their  king  to  decisive  ex- 
ertion. He  therefore  summoned  all  his  vassals  to  meet  him, 
with  their  troops.  The  general  rendezvous  was  fixed  at 
Newcastle  upon  Tyne  ;  and  so  great  was  the  alacrity  of  all, 
that  Edward  saw  himself  at  the  head  of  100,000  men,  Eng«> 
lish,  Welsh,  Gascons,  and  Irish.  To  this  numerous  army 
the  king  of  Scotland  could  oppose  no  more  than  30,000 
meri^;  but  these  were  inured  to  war,  and  had  frequently  been 
victorious.  Edward ,  entering  the  country  without  opposition, 
advanced  towards  Stirling,  while  Robert  made  every  prepa- 
ration to  give  him  a  vigorous  reception.  Considering  the 
superiority  of  nunibers  with  which  he  had  to  contend,  he  ju- 
diciously drew  up  his  army  on  an  advantageous  ground, 
where  craggy  rocks  on  one  of  the  flanks,  and  a  deep  morass 
on  the  other,  prevented  it  from  being  surrounded.  The 
Scots,  being  resolved  to  conflfuer  or  die,  received  the  English 
with  such  steady  and  determined  resolution,  that  they  soon 
threw  their  numerous  army  into  confusion,  and  routed  them 
with  a  most  dreadful  slaughter. 

11.  This  decisive  battle  was  fought  near  a  small  river, 
called  Bannockburn,  on  the  25th  of  July,  A.  D.  1314 ;  and, 
since  the  memorable  day  of  Hastings,  England  had  nevei 
received  so  terrible  a  defeat.     The  different  historian3,  as  is 


What  was  the  respective  number  of  the  ^English  and  Scotch  army, 
at  the  time  of  the  battle  near  the  river  Bannockburn  ?— -When  wm 
this  battle  fouffht  ? 

J9t 


I  ^ijjy  w 


*".»pw"i*"  "v 


206 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


ever  the  cai^,  perplex  us  with  the  discordant  accounts  of  this 
battle,  and  the  loss  there  sustained.  The  earl  of  (jioucester, 
nephew  of  the  king  of  England,  with  many  other  great  lords 
of  distinction,  and,  according  to  some,  700  knights,  were  left 
dead  on  the  field  ;  while  others  assert,  that  the  whole  num- 
ber of  English  earls,  barons,  and  knights,  killed  and  taken 
prisoners,  amounted  to  no  more  than  154.  The  Scotch  his- 
torians make  the  whole  loss  of  the  English  amount  to  50,000, 
and  say  that  the  number  of  prisoners  taken  was  greater  than 
that  of  the  victorious  army.  The  English,  on  the  contrary, 
reduce  the  number  of  their  slain  to  10,000.  Amidst  the 
discordances  of  historical  details,  we  might  be  eternally  be- 
wildered, if  consequences  did  not  elucidate  those  facts  which 
contradictory  evidence  labors  to  obscure.  In  military  histo- 
ry, esp'ecittily,  we  have  here  a  rule.  Which  is  almost  infallible. 

12.  Reasoning  on  this  principle^'^t  is  evident,  that  the  vic- 
tory of  the  Scots  was  decisive,  and  the  loss  of  the  English 
exceedingly  great,  as  the  latter  made  a  precipitate  retreat, 
not  thinking  themselves  in  safety  until  they  reached  York, 
and  never  more  ventured  to  face  the  king  of  Scotland  in  the 
field.  The  Scots,  on  the  contrary,  acquired  an  evident  supe- 
riority ;  and  were,  so  long  as  the  war  continued,  invariably 
successful.  Robert  at  last  besieged  and  took  the  strong 
frontier  town  of  Berwick,  and  himself  and  his  gerierafs  ravag- 
ed ftaost  of  the  northern  borders  of  England.  Not  content- 
ed with  his  successes  in  Britain,  he  attempted  the  conquest 
of  Ireland.  Having  sent  his  brother  Edward  thither,  for 
that  purpose,  he  afterwards  followed  in  person;  but  finding, 
on  his  arrival,  that  his  brother  was  defeated  and  slain  in  bat- 
tle, by  the  archbishop  of  Dublin,  general  of  the  English 
arniy,  or,  as  some  say,  taken  prisoner,  and  hanged  at  Dun- 
dalk,  he  thought  it  best  to  desii^  from  the  enterprise,  in  order 
to  improve  the  advantages  gained  by  his  armies  in  Britain. 

13.  Since  the  conquering  days  of  Edward  I.,  when  the 
English  were  always  victorious,  the  scales  had  surprisingly 
turned  ;  and  they  found  themselves  utterly  unable  to  check 
the  progress  of  the  Scottish  king.  In  this  disastrous  state 
of  affairs,  Edward  IL  found  himself  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  the  pope,  as  the  Scots  had  done  in  the  days  of  his  father, 

What  wak  the  EngU«h  toss  at  the  battle  of  Bannockburn  ? — To  what 
did  Edward  II  have  recouraa  for  the  nupport  of  his  eause,  besides 
(ightinif  ? 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


207 


ind  with  nearly  the  same  success.  He  earnestly  entreated 
his  holiness  to  procure  him  a  peace,  or  at  least  a  truce  with 
Scotland.  John  XXII.,  who  then  filled  the  papal  chair,  im- 
mediately complied  with  his  request,  and  undertook  to  make 
peace  between  the  kings  of  England  and  Scotland,  not  as  a 
mediator,  but  in  the  character  of  sovereign  arbitrator.  For 
this  purpose,  he  sent  into  England  two  legates,  with  a  com- 
mission to  conclude  a  peace  between  the  two  contending 
princes,  and  to  compel  both  parties  to  accept  it,  under  pain 
of  excommunication  and  interdict. 

14,  The  Scottish  monarch,  however,  perceiving  the  con- 
dition of  the  Ireaty  to  be  decidedly  partial  to  England,  re- 
jected the  papal  arbitration.  The  legates,  in  consequence, 
pronounced  sentence  of  excommunication  against  him,  and 
laid  an  interdict  on  his  kingdom.  Robert,  in  the  meanwhile, 
regardless  of  a  censure  #hich  he  considered  as  unjust,  con- 
tinued the  war,  and  committed  great  ravages.  He  plundered 
and  burnt  Northallerton,  Boroughbridge,  Scarborough,  and 
many  other  places,  and  almost  desolated  the  northern  parts 
of  England.  The  English  were  every  where  beaten ;  and 
had,' at  the  same  time,  the  mortification  to  find  the  spiritual 
arihs  of  Rome  unsuccessful.  Afler  much  solicitation,  how- 
ever, they  obtained  a  truce  for  two  years.  This  short  pei'iod 
was  no  sooner  elapsed,  than  Edward,  who  ha4  just  reduced 
the  associate<|  barons  of  his  kingdom  to  submission,  flattered 
himself  with  an  expectation  of  equal  sucpess  against  his  fo 
rieign  enemies.  > 

15.  Having,  therefore,  made  great  preparations  for  the  iuf 
vasion  of  Scotland,  in  hopes  of  repairing  his  former  losses 
by  one  grand  effort,  he  entered  that  kingdom,  in  the  month 
of  July,  1323 ;  but,  from  his  improvidence,  and, the  precau- 
tion of  his  enemies,  this,  like  his  former  expeditions,  was  only 
a  series  of  disasters.  Having  neglected  the  proper  means  of 
furnishing  his  army  with  provisions,  an  imprudence  which  his 
former  experience  might  have  corrected,  while  the  Scots,  by 
removing  or  destroying  every  article  of  subsistence,  had  ef- 
fectually deprived  him  of  any  supplies  in  their  country,  his 
ill-conducted  measures  rendered  a  retreat  indispensably  ne- 
cessary. This,  however,  was  only  the  beginning  of  his  dis- 
asters. The  English  no  sooner  began  their  retreat,  than  the 
king  of  Scotland,  appearing  at  the  head  of  his  army,  pursued 
and  overtook  them  at  a  place  called  Blackmore.    Here  they 


wnmm 
208 


mm 


irr^ 


ROBERT  BRUCE. 


were  not  only  defeated,  with  the  loss  of  their  baggage,  but 
the  whole  army  was  almost  totally  dispersed,  and  Edward 
himselt  narrowly  escaped. 

16.  The  Scottish  king,  continuing  his  march,  desolated  tlie 
country  with  fire  and  sword,  as  far  as  to  the  very  walls  of 
York ;  and,  having  burned  the  monastery  of  Ripon,  and 
plundered  the  abbey  of  Beverly,  returned  to  his  kingdom 
with  a  great  booty.  Being  desirous,  liowever,  of  giving  some 
respite  to  his  kingdom,  exhausted  by  those  long  and  bloody 
wars,  and  of  a  reconciliation  with  the  court  of  Rome,  he 
consented  to  a  truce  for  thirteen  years.  By  this  treaty, 
concluded  A.  D.  1323,  a  temporary  stop  was  put  to  those 
ravages,  which,  during  so  long  a  time,  had  almost  desolated 
so  considerable  a  part  of  Great  Britain.  This  period,  not- 
withstanding the  frequent  recurrence  of  bloody  wars  between 
the  two  kingdoms,  may  be  consiqered  as  the  epoch  of  the 
complete  restoration  of  the  Scottish  monarchy. 

17.  The  space  of  time  which  elapsed  from  the  death  of 
Alexander  III.,  A.  D.  1285,  to  the  conclusion  of  this  truce, 
includes  a  period  of  thirty-eight  years  of  indescribably  ca- 
lamity to  the  inhabitants  of  this  island.  Both  Scotland  and 
England  had  experienced  the  direful  effects  of  a  war,  car- 
ried on  with  little  regard  to  humanity.  Almost  the  whole  of 
tJie  former,  and  a  considerable  part  of  the  latter  kingdom, 
had  repeatedly  been  ravaged  and  devastated,  with  a  ferocity 
of  which  a  modern  reader  can  scarcely  form  any  idea.  The 
severity  of  Edward  I.  excited  a  bitter  animosity  between  the 
two  nations,  which  mutual  injuries  and  constant  retaliation 
kept  alive ;  while  the  ferocious  manners  of  the  age  tinctured 
all  their  conduct  with  barbarity,  and  merciless  devastation 
marked  the  footsteps  of  their  armies.  The  events  of  this 
j)eriod,  which,  however  unpleasing,  is  highly  interesting  to 
the  how  happy  inhabitants  of  the  united  kingdom  of  Great 
Britain,  exhibit  the  contrast  between  ancient  and  modern 
times. 

IS.  During  the  latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Robert  I.,  Scot- 
land was  in  the  zenith  of  her  glory.  The  whole  life  of  that 
monarch  had  been  a  scene  of  extraordinary  exertion,  attend- 

Did  the  pope  succeed  in  reconciling  the  kings  of  Scotland  and  Eagf- 
land  ? — What  excited  the  bitter  animosity  that  existed  between  iho 
Enfflisli  and  the  ^cots  at  tliis  time  ? — When  was  Scotlaiid  in  the  ze- 
nitt  of  her  glory  * 


MAR\  QUKfiN  OF  SCOTS. 


20D 


ed  with  uncommon  success.  For  this,  however,  he  might 
perhaps  be,  in  a  great  measure,  indebted  to  the  death  of 
Edward  I.  at  so  momentous  a  crisis.  Robert's  abilities  were 
certainly  of  the  mo.'^t  eminent  class  ;  but,  had  his  destiny 
compelled  him  tp  contend  with  the  warlike  genius  and  enter- 
prising spirit  of  the  hrst  Edward,  instead  of  the  pusillanimity 
of  his  successor,  it  is  impossible  to  say  on  which  side  success 
would  have  rested.  In  the  whole  series  of  history,  the  states- 
man, or  the  warrior,  will  find  few  more  curious  subjects  of 
contemplation,  than  the  revolution  effected  by  the  critical 
death  of  Edward,  at  the  very  commencement  of  Bruce's  re- 
voh. 


a  war,  car- 


MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOyS. 

1.  On  Tuesday,  the  seventh  of  F^pbruary,  1587,  the  two 
earls  arrived  at  Fotheringay,  and  demanded  access  to  the 
queen,  read  in  her  presence  the  warrant  of  execution,  and 
required  her  to  prepare  to  die  next  morning.  Mary  heard 
them,  to  the  end  without  emotion,  and  crossing  herself  in  the 
name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
"that  soul,"  said  she,  "is  not  worthy  the  joys  of  heaven, 
which  repines  because  the  body  must  endure  the  stroke  of 
the  executioner  ;  and  though  I  did  not  expect  that  the  queen 
of  England  would  set  the  first  example  of  violating  the  sa- 
cred person  of  a  sovereign  prince,  I  willingly  submit  to  that 
which  Providence  has  decreed  to  be  my  lot ;"  and  laying  her 
hand  on  a  bible,  which  happened  to  be  near  her,  she  solemn- 
ly protested  that  she  was  innocent  of  that  conspiracy  which 
Babington  had  carried  on  against  Elizabeth's  life.  She  en- 
treated with  particular  earnestness,  that  now  in  her  last  mo- 
ments her  almoner  might  be  suffered  to  attend  her,  and  that 
she  might  enjoy  the  consolation  of  those  pious  institutions 
prescribed  by  her  religion.  Even  this  favor,  which  is  usu- 
ally granted  to  the  vilest  criminal,  was  absolutely  denied. 

2.  Her  attendants,  during  this  conversation,  were  bathed 
in  tears,  and  though  overawed  by  the  presence  of  the  two 
earls,  with  difficulty  suppressed  their  anguish ;  but  no  sooner 


When  waA  Mary  Quoen  of  Scots  beheaded  ^ 


eio 


MAR^  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 


did  Kent  and  Shrewsbury  withdraw,  than  they  ran  to  their 
mistress  and  burst  out  into  the  most  passionate  expressions 
of  tenderness  and  sorrow.  Mary,  however,  not  only  retain- 
ed perfect  composure  of  mind  herself,  but  endeavored  to 
moderate  their  excessive  grief ;  and  falling  qpfher  knees,  with 
all  her  domestics  round  her,  she  thanked  heaven  that  her 
sufTerings  were  now  so  near  an  end,  and  prayed  that  she 
might  be  enabled  to  endure  what  still  remained  with  decency 
and  with  fortitude.  The  greater  part  of  the  evening  she 
employed  in  nettling  her  worldly  ailairs.  She  wrote  her  tes> 
tameiU  with  her  own  hand.  Her  money,  her  jewels,  and  her 
clothes,  she  distributed  among  her  servants  according  to  their 
rank  or  merit.  She  wrote  a  short  letter  to  the  king  of  France, 
and  another  to  the  duke  of  Guise,  ful!  of  tender  but  magnani- 
mous sentiments,,  and  recommended  her  soul  to  their  pray 
ers.  and  her  amioted  sc  ^vants  to  their  protection. 

3.  At  supper  sh&;at|  temperately,  as  usual,  and  conversed 
not  pnly  with  ease  but  with  cheerfulness ;  she  drank  to  every 
one  of  her  servants,  and  asked  their  forgiveness  if  ever  she  fail- 
ed in  any  part  of  her  duty  towards  them.  At  her  wonted  time 
tijae  went  to  bed,  and  slept  calmly  for  a  few  hours.  Early  in 
the  morning  she  retired  into  her  closet,  and  employed  a  con- 
siderable time  in  devotion.  At  eight  o'clock  the  high  sheriff 
and  his  onlicei's  entered  her  chamber,  and  found  her  still 
kneeling  at  the  altar.  She  immediately  started  up,  and  with 
a  majestic  mien,  and  a  countenance  undismayed,  and  even 
cheerful,  advanced  towards  the  place  of  execution,  leaning 
on  two  of  Paulet's  attendants.  She  was  dressed  in  a  mourn- 
ing habit,  but  with  an  elegance  and  splendor  whi(^h  she  had 
long  laid  aside,  except  on  a  few  festival  days.  An  Agnus 
Dei  hung  by  a  promander  chain  at  her  oeck  ;  her  beads  at 
her  girdle ;  and  in  her  hands  she  ".arried  a  <  fucifix  of  ivory. 

4.  At  the  bottom  of  the  stair« ,  the  two  rarls,  attended  by 
several  gentlemen  from  the  neighboring  counties,  received 
her,  and  there  sir  Andrew  Melvil,  the  master  of  her  house- 
hold, who  had  been  secluded  for  some  weeks  from  her  pre- 
sence, was  permitted  to  take  his  last  farewell.  At  the  sight 
of  a  mistress  whom  he  tenderly  loved,  in  such  a  situation,  he 
melted  into  tears ;  and  as  he  was  bewailing  her  Condition, 
and'  complaining  of  his  own  hard  fate,  in  being  appointed  to 
carry  the  account  of  such  a  mournful  event  into  Scotland, 
Mary  replied,  "  Weep  not,  good  Melvil,  there  is  at  present 


w  ■■ 


mm^^ 


m^^u 


mmi^ 


mi^»m 


m^nav^^ama 


MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS.  211 

# 
great  cause  for  rejoicing.  Thou  shait  this  day  see  Mary  Stu- 
art delivered  from  all  her  cares,  and  such  an  end  put  to  her  te- 
dious sufferings,  as  she  has  long  expected.  Bear  witness  that 
I  die  constant  in  my  religion ;  firm  in  my  fidelity  towards 
Scotland ;  and  unchanged  in  my  affection.,  towards  France. 
Commend  me  to  my  son.  Tell  him  I  have  done  nothing  in- 
jurious to  his  kingdom,  to  his  honor,  or  to  his  rights ;  and  God 
forgive  all  those  who  have  thirsted  without  cause  for  my  blood." 

5.  With  much  difficulty,  a: id  afler  many  entreaties,  she 
prevailed  on  the  two  earls  to  allow  MelvU,  together  with  three 
of  her  men-servants  and  two  of  her  maids,  to  attend  her  to 
the  scaffold.  It  was  erected  in  the  same  hall  where  she  had 
been  tried,  raised  a  little  above  the  floor,  and  covered,  as  well 
as  a  chair,  the  cushion,  and  block,  with  black  cloth.  Mary 
mounted  the  steps  with  alacrity,  beheld  all  this  apparatus  of 
death  with  an  unaltered  countenance,  and  signing  herself 
with  the  cross,  she  sat  down  in  the  chair.  Beale  read  the 
warrant  for  execution  with  a  loud  voice,  to  ii^hich  she  listen- 
ed with  a  careless  air,  and  like  one  occupied  in  other  thoughts. 
Then  the  dean  of  Peterborough  began  a  devout  discourse^ 
suitable  to  her  present  condition,  and  offered  up  prayers  to 
heaven  in  her  behalf;  but  she  declared  she  could  not  in  con- 
science hearken  to  the  one  nor  join  in  the  other ;  and  kneel- 
ing down,  repeated  a  Latin  prayer.  When  the  dean  had 
finished  his  discourse,  she  with  an  audible  voice,  and  in  tb« 
English  tongue,  recommended  unto  God  the  afflicted  state  of 
the  church,  and  prayed  for  prosperity  to  her  son,  and  for  a 
long  life  and  peaceable  reign  to  Elizabeth.  She  declared 
that  she  hoped  for  mercy  only  through  the  death  of  Christ,  at 
the  foot  of  whose  image  she  now  willingly  shed  her  blood ; 
and  lifting  up  and  kissing  the  crucifix,  she  thus  addressed  it : 
"  As  thy  arms,  O  Jesus,  were  extended  on  the  cross  ;  so  with 
the  outstretched  arms  of  thy  mercy  receive  me,  and  forgive 
my  sins." 

6.  She  then  prepared  for  the  block  by  taking  off*  her  veil 
and  upper  garments ;  and  one  of  the  executioners  rudoly 
endeavoring  to  assist,  she  gently  checked  him,  and  said  with 
a  smile,  that  she  had  not  been  accustomed  to  undress  before 
80  many  spectators,  nor  to  be  served  by  such  valets.     With 


Who  attended  Mary  at  her  execution  ? — What  clergyman  attend- 
•d  her  f— Was  she  pleased  with  his  services  ? 


».»i  *^m'-y^m  wf.'apsiafc*. 


^nii mtmiiAm I  t,*»m.. 


^'^^•mmmw^ 


■fti'i;Niuif9||pjj 


T^rr^JT" 


213 


MARY  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS. 


k':W- 


calm  but  undaunted  fortitude,  she  laid  her  neck  on  the  block , 
and  while  one  executioner  held  her  hands,  the  other,  at  ihe 
second  stroke,  cut  off  her  head,  which  falling  out  of  its  attire, 
discovered  her  hair  already  grown  quite  grey  with  cares  and 
sorrows.  The  executioner  held  it  up  still  streaming  with 
blood,  ^Jkd  the  dean  crying  out,  "  So  perish  all  queen  Eliza- 
beth's enemies,"  the  earl  of  Kent  alone  answered  Amen. 
The  rest  of  the  spectators  continued  silent,  and  drowned  in 
tears;  being  incapable,  at  that  moment,  of  any  other  senti- 
ments but  those  of  pity  or  admiration. 

7.  Such  was  the  tragical  death  of  Mary,  queen  of  Scots, 
after  a  life  of  forty-four  years  and  two  months,  almost  nine- 
teen years  of  which  she  passed  in  captivity.  All  contempo- 
rary authors  agree  in  ascribing  to  Mary  the  utmost  beauty 
of  countenance  and  elegance  of  shape,  of  which  the  human 
form  is  capable.  Her  hair  was  black,  though  according  to 
the  fashion  of  that  age  she  frequently  wore  borrowed  locks, 
and  of  different  colors.  Her  stature  was  of  a  height  that 
rose  to  the  majestic.  She  danced,  she  walked,  and  rode 
with  equal  grace.  Her  taste  for  music  was  just,  and  she  both 
sung  and  played  upon  the  lute  with  uncommon  skill.  To- 
wards the  close  of  her  life,  long  confinement  and  the  coldness 
of  the  houses  in  which  she  had  been  imprisoned^  brought  on 
a  rheumatism,  which  often  deprived  her  of  ^he  use  of  her 
limbs.  No  man,  says  Brantorae,  ever  beheld  her  person 
without  admiration  and  love,  or  will  read  her  history  without 
sorrow. 

8.  To  all  the  charms  of  beauty,  afid  the  utmost  elegance 
of  external  form,  she  added  those  accomplishments  which 
render  their  impression  irresistible.  Polite,  affable,  insinuat- 
ing, sprightly,  and  capable  of  speaking  and  of  writing  with 
equal  ease  and  dignity.  Sudden,  however,  and  violent  in  all 
her  attachments ;  because  her  heart  was  warm  and  unsuspi- 
cious. Impatient  of  contradiction ;  because  she  had  been 
accustomed  from  her  infancy  to  be  treated  as  a  queen.  No 
stranger,  on  some  occasions,  to  dissimulation ;  which,  in  that 
perfidious  court  where  she  received  her  education,  Was  reck- 
oned among  her  necessary  arts  of  government.  Not  insensi- 
ble of  flattery,  or  unconscious  of  that  pleasure  with  which  al 


What  wai  Mary'i  age  ? — How  much  of  her  life  bad  sh*  passed  in 
prison? 


""^•^ '^     ,m,<K^»mt 


'^'••*  "*»'*  »■■  I  I  "^  <  JWI*MiH  •*-».,- 


^iiii 


mtmmm 


FALL  OF  JERICHO. 


213 


most  every  woman  beholds  the  influence  of  her  own  beauty. 
Formed  with  the  qualities  which  we  love,  not  with  the  talents 
that  we  admire ;  she  was  an  agreeable  woman,  rather  than  a  > 
illustrious  qneen.  The  vivacity  of  her  spirit  not  sufficiently 
tempered  with  sound  judgment,  and  the  warmth  of  her 
heart,  which  was  not  at  all  times  under  the  restraint  of  dis- 
cretion, betrayed  her  both  into  errors  and  into  crimes. 

9*.  None  of  her  women  were  suffered  to  come  near  her  dead 
body,  which  was  carried  into  a  room  adjoining  to  the  place 
of  execution,  where  it  lay  for  some  days,  covered  with  a 
co'arse  cloth  torn  from  a  billiard  table.  The  block,  the  scaf- 
fold, the  aprons  of  the  executioners,  and  every  thing  stained 
with  her  blood,  were  reduced  to  ashes.  Not  long  after,  Eliza- 
beth appointed  her  body  to  be  buried  in  •  the  Cathedral  of 
Peterborough  with  royal  magniticence.  But  this  vulgar  arti- 
fice was  employed  in  vain ;  the  pa^^^eantry  of  a  pompous  fune- 
ral did  not  efface  the  memory  of  those  injuries  which  laid 
Mary  in  her  grave.  James,  soon  after  his  accession  to  the 
English  throne,  ordered  her  body  to  be  removed  to  Westmin- 
ster abbey,  and  to  be  deposited  among  the  monarchs  of  Ei»*- 
land. . 


FALL  OF  JERICHO. 

Who  is  that  cWef,  already  taught  to  urge       t 
The  batt'e  stream,  and  roll  its  flarkest  surge, 
Whose  r,  rmy  marches  through  retiring  seas, 
Whose  gory  banner,  spreading  on  the  breeze, 
Unfolds  o'cir  Jericho's  devoted  towers,* 
And,  like  the  storm  o'er  So^lom,  really  lowers  ? 
The  moon  can  answer ;  for  slic  heard  his  tongue, 
And  cold  find  pale  o'er  Ajaion  she  hung.t 
The  sun  can  tell — O'er  Gibccm't}  vale  of  blood, 
Cuiving  theif  beamy  necks,  his  coursers  stood, 
Held  by  that  hero's  arm,  to  light  his  wrath, 
And  roll  their  glorious  eyes  upon  his  crimson  path. 
What  mine,  exploding,  rends  that  smoking  ground  1 
What  earthquake  spreads  those  smouldering  ruins  round  ? 
0.'he  sons  of  Levi,  round  that  city,  bear 


•  Joshua  vi.  20. 


20 


!  Jashur.  x   12,  tl 


VV>¥K» 


•'•'"^"'w»|W»iP«5ipw 


'  T-^RniB^iJ'IWT' 


""^mmm 


314 


CHARLES  I.  OF  ENGLAND. 


The  ark  of  God,  their  consecrated  care, 
And,  in  rude  concert,  each  returning  morn, 
Blow  the  long  trump,  and  wind  the  curling  horn. 
No  blackening  thunder  smok'd  along  the  wall — 
No  earthquake  shook  it — Music  wrought  its  fall. 


pi 

hi 


CHARLES  L  OF  ENGLArD. 

L  From  the  sixth  to  the  twentieth  of  January  was  srpent 
in  making  preparations  for  his  extraordinary  trial.  The 
court  of  justice  consisted  of  a  hundred  and  thirty-three  per- 
sons named  by  the  commons  ;  but  of  these,  never  above  se- 
venty met  upon  the  trial.  The  members  were  chiefly  com- 
posed of  the  principal  officers  of  the  army,  most  of  them  of 
very  mean  birth,  together  with  some  of  the  lower  house,  and 
a  few  citizens  of  London.  Bradshaw,  a  lawyer,  was  chosen 
pr*»8ident ;  Coke  was  appointed  solicitor  for  the  people  of 
England;  Dorislaus,  Steele,  and  Aske,  were  nanied  assist-' 
ants.     The  court  sat  at  Westminster  hall. 

2.  The  king  was  now  conducted  from  Windaor  to  St. 
James's,  and  the  next  day  was  brought  before  the  high  court 
to  take  his  trial.  When  he  was  brought  forward,  he  was 
conducted  by  the  mace^'bearer  to  a  chair  placed  within  the 
bar.  Though  long  detained  a  prisoner,  and  now  produced 
as  a  criminal,  he  still  sustained  the  dignity-  of  a  king ;  he 
surveyed  the  members  of  the  court  with  a  stern,  haughty  air, 
and  without  moving  his  hat  sat  down,  while  the  members 
were  also  covered.  His  charge  was  then  read  by  the  solici- 
tor, accusing  him  of  having  been  the  cause  of  all  the  blood- 
shed that  followed  since  the  commencement  of  the  war ;  at 
.|hat  part  of  the  charge,  he  could  not  suppress  a  smile  of  con- 
tempt and  indignation.  After  the  charge  was  finished,  Brad- 
shaw directed  his  discourse  to  the  king,  and  told  him,  that 
the  court  expected  his  answer. 

3.  The  king,  with  great  temper,  entered  upon  his  defence, 
by  declining  the  autiiority  of  the  court.  He  represented, 
that,  having  been  engaged  in  treaty  with  his  two  houses  of 


How  many  piersonsr  constituted  the  court  that  tried  king  Charles  ? — 
What  description  of  persons  chiefly  composed  this  court  ? — Who  was 
vnpoiuted  president  r--On  what  ground  did  the  king  decline  makiny 
*     dofenco  ?  • 


•  I  ilff'ililliilrti  f     fiitiiji   Ml   I  iJM^  I 


MM 


HriMMMI 


MWHmA 


yMUMNUMMt^'  •Jtk.^ 


"'"■ag 


CHARLES  I.  OF  ENGLAND. 


315 


parliame'it,  and  having  finished  almost  every  article,  he  ex- 
pected a  different  treatment  frokP  that  he  now  received.  Ho 
perceived,  he  said,  no  appearance  of  an  upper  house,  >v!^ih 
was  necessary  to  constitute  a  just  tribunal.  That  he  w.\3 
himself  the  king  and  fountain  of  law ;  and  conisequeutly 
could  not  be  tried  by  laws  to  which  he  had  never  given  his 
assent ;  that  having  been  intrusted  with  the  liberties  of  the 
people,  he  would  not  now  betray  them,  by  recognising  a 
power  founded  in  usurpation  ;  that  he  was  willing,  before  a 
proper  tribunal,  to  enter  into  the  particulars  of  ^is  defence ; 
but:  that  before  them  he  must  decline  any  apology  for  inno- 
cesice,  lest  he  should  be  considered  the  betrayer  oi,  and  not 
a  martyr  for,  the  constitution. 

4.  Bradshaw,  in  order  to  support  the  authority  of  that 
court,  insisted  that  they  had  received  their  power  from  the  peo- 
»^le,  the  source  of  all  right.  He  pressed  the  prisoner  not  to 
Irciine  the  autiiority  of  the  court,*which  was  delegated  by  the 
V  ymmons  of  England  ;  and  interrupted  and  over-ruled  the 
King  in  his  attempts  to  reply.  In  this  mannfer  was  the  king 
three  times  produced  before  the  court ;  and  as  often  persist- 
ed ;n  ^declining  its  jurisdiction.  The  fourth  and  last  time  he 
was  brought  before  the  self-created  tribunal,  as  he  was  pro- 
ceeding thither,  he  was  insulted  by  the  soldiers  and  the  mob, 
who  exclaimed,  '-Justice!  justice  !  execution !  execution!" 
but  he  continued  undaunted.  His  judges  having  now  exa- 
mined some  witnesses,  by  whom  it  was  proved  that  the  king 
had  appeared  in  arms  against  the  forces  commissioned  by 
parliament,  they  pronounoeil  sentence  against  him. 

5.  The  t;o»duct  of  the  king  ander  all  these  instances  of 
[o\ir  bv<;d  m  ilice,  was  great,  firm  and  equal ;  in  going  through 
the  hail  fr-jtii  thi«»  execrable  tribunal,  the  vsoldiers  and  rabble 
were  again  ia;  >igateu  ♦o  cry  out  justice  and  execution.  They 
leviled  him  wiih  the  mosi  bitter  reproaches.  Amongst  other 
insults,  one  miscreant  presumed  to  spit  in  the  face  of  his 
sovereign.  He  patiently  bore  their  insults.  "  Poor  souls," 
cried  he,  "  they  would  treat  iheir  generals  in  the  same  man- 
ner for  six-pence."    Those  of  the  populace  who  still  retain- 


On  \nt;  '<  jrduv'd  diJ  Bradshaw  maintftih  the  legal  ju.isdiction  of 
the  courv  ?-■•  Wlmt  was  the  treatment  which  he  roooived  from  the  soI> 
(iiera  ? — What  was  proved  against  the;  kin;;;  in  his  trial  '—  What  wi« 
the  conduct  of  (hs  king  under  this  treatment '' ' 


rtMii 


•WBIWi""" 


■"  '.twyjWfl'l"'?"'' '  ■'-  •    I  ' 


21C 


CHARLES  1.  OF  ENGLAND. 


.-.  ^- 


m 


ed  the  feelings  qf  humanity,  expressed  their  sorrow  in  sighs 
and,  tears.  A  soldier,  more  compassionate  than  the  rest, 
could  not  help  imploring  a  blessing  upon  his  royal  head.  An 
officer,  overhearing  him,  struck  the  honest  sentinel  to  the 
ground  before  the  king,  who  could  not  help  saying,  that  the 
punishment  exceeded  the  offence. 

6.  At  his  return  to  Whitehall,  he  desired  the  permission 
of  the  house  to  see  his  children,  and  to  be  attended  in  his 
private  devotions  by  doctor  Juxon,  late  bishop  of  London. 
These  requests  were  granted,  and  also  three  days  to  prepare 
for  the  execution  of  the  sen  tence.  All  that  remained  of  his 
family,  now  in  England,  vv'ere  the  princess  Elizabeth,  and 
the  duke  of  Gloucester,  a  child  of  about  three  years  of  age. 
After  many  seasonable  and  gtensible  exhortations  to  his  daugh- 
ter, he  took  his  little  &"  into  his  arms,  and  embracing  him, 
"  My  child,"  said  he,  *  ,  will  cut  off  thy  father's  head — 
yes,  they  will  cut  off  n.y  .v  '  and  make  thee  a  king.  But 
mark  v  'lat  I  say,  thou  must  not  be  a  king  as  long  as  thy 
brothers,  Charles  and  James,  are  alive.  They  will  cut  off 
their  heads  when  they  can  take  them,  and  thy  head  too,  at 
last ;  and  therefore,  I  charge  thee,  do  not  be  made  a  king  by 
them."  The  child,  bursting  into  tears,  replied,  "  I  will  be 
torn  in  pieces  first." 

7.  Every  night,  during  the  interval  between  his  sentence 
and  execution,  the  king  slept  sound  as  usual ;  though  the 
noise  of  the  workmen  employed  in  framing  the  scaffold  con. 
tinually  resounded  in  his  ears.  The  fatal  morning  being  at 
last  arrived,  he  rose  early,  and  calling  one  of  his  attendants, 
he  bade  him  employ  more  than  usual  care  in  dressing  him, 
and  preparing  him  for  so  great  and  joyful  a  solemnity.  The 
street  before  Whitehall  v/as  the  place  destined  for  his  execu- 
tion ;  for  it  was  supposed  that  this  would  increase  the  seve- 
rity of  his  punishment.  He  was  led  through  the  banqueting 
house  to  the  scaffold,  adjoining  that  edifice,  attended  by  his 
friend  and  servant,  bishop  Juxon,  a  man  endowed  with  the 
same  mild  and  steady  virtues  with  his  master.  The  scaffold, 
which  was  covered  with  black,  was  guarded  by  a  regiment 
of  soldiers,  under  the  command  of  colonel  Tomlinson ;  and 


By  whom  was  tho  king  attended  in  his  devotions,  afler  being  cou' 
demned  ? — Who  commanded  the  regiment  that  guarded  the  scaffold 


•n  which  he  was  executed  ? 


CHARLES  I.  OF  ENGLAND.  217 

on  it  were  to  be  seen  the  block  and  axe,  and  two  execution- 
ers in  masks;  The  people,  in  great  crowds,  stood  at  a  great 
distance,  in  dreadful  expectation  of  the  event. 

8.  The  king,  however,  remained  calm  amidst  all  these 
awful  preparations  ;  and,  aS  he  could  not  expect  to  be  heard 
by  the  people  at  a  distance,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  few 
who  stood  round  him.  He  there  justified  his  innocence  in 
the  late  fatal  war ;  and  observed  that  he  had  not  taken  arms 
till  after  the  parliament  had  shown  him  the  example.  That 
he  had  no  other  object  in  his  warlike  preparations,  than  to 
preserve  that  authority  entire,  which  had  been  transmitted  to 
him  by  his  ancestors  ;  but,  though  innocent  towards  his  peo- 
ple, he  acknowledged  the  equity  of  his  execution  in  the  eyes 
of  his  Maker.  He  owned  that  he  was  justly  punished  for 
having  consented  to  the  execution  of  an  unjust  sentence 
upon  the  earl  of  Strafford.  He  forgave  all  his  enemies;  ex- 
horted the  people  to  return  to  their  obedience,  and  acknow- 
ledged his  son  as  hissuccessor  ;  and  signified  his  attachment 
to  the  protestant  religion,  as  professed  in  the  church  of  Eng- 
land. So  strong  was  the  impression  his  dying  words  made 
upon  the  fbw  who  could  hear  him,  that  colonel  Tomlinson 
himself,  into  whose  care  he  had  been  committed,  acknow- 
ledged himself  a  convert. 

9.  While  he  was  thus  preparing  himself  for  the  block, 
bishop  Juxon  called  out  to  him,  "  There  is,  sir,  but  one  stage 
more ;  which,  though  turbulent  and  troublesome,  is  yet  a 
very  short  one.  It  will  soon  carry  you  U  great  way.  It  will 
soon  carry  you  from  earth  to  heaven  ;  and  there  y  .?u  shall 
find,  to  your  great  joy,  ^he  prize  to  which  you  hasten ;  a 
crown  of  glory."  "  I  go,"  replied  the  king,  "  from  a  cor- 
ruptible to  an  incorruptible  crown,  where  no  disturbance  can 
have  place."  "  You  exchange,"  the  bishop  added,  "  a  tem- 
poral for  an  eternal  crown;  a  good  exchange."  Charles 
having  taken  off  his  cloak,  he  delivered  his  George  to  the 
prelate,  pronouncing  the  word  "remember."  Then  he  laid 
his  neck  upon  the  block,  and  stretching  out  his  hands  as  a 
signal,  one  of  the  executioners  severed  his  head  from  hia  body 
at  a  blow  ;  while  the  other,  holding  it  up,  exclaimed,  **  This 
is  the  haad  of  a  traitor."     The  spectatois  testified  their  hor 


Was  the  kinff  apparently  resigned  to  his  fate  ? — U'nl  no  ar.Kuowito^*' 
I  he  iustico  of  tne  «ientence  which  oondornned  him  to  death  ? 


mmimm 


218 


THE  RUINS. 


ror  at  that  sad  epectacle,  in  sighs,  tears,  and  lamentations ; 
the  tide  of  their  duly  and  affection  began  to  return,  and  each 
blamed  himself  either  with  active  disloyalty  to  his  king,  or 
a  passive  compliance  with  his  destroyers. 

10.  Charles  was  executed  January  30,  1649,  in  the  forty- 
ninth  year  of  his  age,  and  the  twenty-fourth  of  his  reign. 
He  was  of  middling  stature,  robust,  and  well  proportioned. 
His  visage  was  pleasing,  but  melancholy  ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  continual  troubles  in  which  he  was  involved  might 
bave  made  that  impression  on  his  countenance.  As  for  his 
character,  the  reader  will  deduce  it  with  more  precision  and 
satisfaction  to  himself  from  the  detail  of  his  conduct,  than 
Irom  any  summary  given  of  it  by  the  historian. 


Ul 


5-  > 


1 


THE  RUINS. 

I've  seen,  in  twilight's  pensive  hour, 

The  moss-clad  dome,  the  mouldering  tower, 

In  awlLi    ail*  stand  ; 
That  dome,  where  grateful  voices  sung, 
That  tower,  whose  chiming  music  rung 

Majesti^Uy  grand !  •  * 

■  ^  ■ 

I've  seen,  'mid  sculptured  pride,  the  tomb  , 
Where  heroes  slept,  in  silent  gloom. 

Unconscious  of  their  fame ; 
Those  who,  with  laurell'd  honors  crown  d, 
Among,  their  foes  spread  terror  round. 

And  gain'd — an  empty  name  ! 

I've  seen,  in  death's  dark  palace  laid, 
The  ruins  of  a  beauteous  maid, 

Cadaverous  and  pale ! 
That  maiden  who,  while  life  remain'd, 
O'er  rival  charms  in  triumph  reign'd 

A  he  mistress  of  the  vale. 

» 

I've  seen,  where  dungeon  damps  abide, 
A  youth,  admir'd  in  manhood's  pride, 

At  what  time  wa«  kin^  Charleys  executed  ? — How  old  \^n  he 
then  ? — How  lon^  hud  he  rieignod  - 


GUN-POWDER  TREASON. 

In  morbid  fancy  rave ; 
He,  who,  in  reason's  happier  day. 
Was  virtuous,  witty,  nobly  gay, 

Learn'd,  generous,  and  brave. 

Nor  dome,  nor  tower,  in  twilight  shade, 
Nor  hero  fallen,  nor  beauteous  maid, 

To  ruin  all  consigned — 
Can  with  such  pathos  touch  my  breast, 
As  (on  the  maniac's  form  impressed) 

The  ruins  of  the  Mind  !      ♦ 


210 


GUN-POWDER  TREASON. 

1 .  The  Roman  catholics  had  expected  great  favor  and  in- 
dulgence on  the  accession  of  James  I.,  both  as  a  descendant 
of  Mary,  a  rigid  catholic,  and  also  as  having  shown  some 
partiality  to  that  religion  in  his  youth.  But  they  soon  dis- 
covered their  mistake  ;  and  were  at  once  surprisi  d  and  en- 
raged to  find  James,  on  all  occasions,  express  his  lesolution 
of  strictly  executing  the  laws  enacted  against  them,  and  of 
persevering  in  the  conduct  of  his  predecessor.  This  declara- 
tion determined  them  upon  more  desperate  measures ;  and 
they  at  length  formed  the  resolution  of  destroying  the  king 
and  both  houses  of  parliament  at  a  blow.  The  scheme  was 
first  broached  by  Robert  Catesby,  a  gentleman  of  good  parts 
and  ancient  family,  who  conceived  that  a  train  of  gun-jfcw- 
der  might  be  so  placed  under  the  parliament-house,  as  to  blow 
up  the  king  and  all  the  members  at  once. 

2.  How  horrid  soever  this  contrivance  might  appear,  yet 
every  member  seemed  faithful  and  secret  in  the  league;  and 
about  two  months  before  the  sitting  of  parliament,  they  hired 
a  house  in  Percy's  name,  adjoining  to  that  in  which  the  par 
liame;it  was  to  assemble.  Their  tirst  intention  was  to  bore 
a  way  under  the  parliament-house,  from  that  which  they  oc- 
cupied ;  and  they  set  themselves  laboriously  to  the  task ;  but 
when  they  had  pierced  the  wall,  which  was  three  yards  in 

On  what  accoant  did  the  catholics  expect  the  favor  and  indulgence 
of  James  I.  ? — Were  their  expectations  realized  ? — What  measure  of 
revenge  did  they  attempt  P — How  wa«  the  plan  formed  to  destroy  the 
king  and  parliainent  * 


'ir- 


^pimp"D" 


290 


GUN-POWDER  TREASON 


I't' 


1 


thickness,  on  approaching  the  other  side,  they  were  surprised 
to  find  that  the  house  was  vaulted  underneath,  and  that  a 
quantity  of  coals  was  usually  deposited  there.  From  their 
disappointment  on  this  account  they  were  soon  relieved  by 
information  that  the  coals  were  then  selling  off,  and  that  the 
vaults  would  then  be  let  to  the  highest  bidder.  They,  there- 
fore, seized  the  opportunity  of  hiring  the  place,  and  bought 
the  remaining  quantity  of  coals  with  which  it  was  stored,  as 
if  for  their  own  use. 

3.  The  next  thing  done  was  to  convey  thither  thirty-six 
barrels  of  gun-po#der,  which  had  been  purchased  in  Hol- 
land, and  the  whole  was  covered  with  the  coals,  and  with 
fagots,  brought  for  that  purpose.  Then  the  doors  of  the 
cellar  were  boldly  flung  open,  and  every  body  admitted,  as  if 
it  contained  nothing  dangerous.  Confident  of  success,  they 
proceeded  to  plan  the  remaining  part  of  their  project.  The 
king,  the  queen,  and  prince  Henry,  the  king's  eldest  son, 
were  all  expected  to  be  present  at  the  opening  of  parliament. 
The  king's  second  son,  by  reason  of  his  tender  age,  would 
be  absent,  and  it  was  resolved  that  Percy  should  seize  or  as- 
sassinate him.  The  princess  Elizabeth,  a  child  likewise,  was 
kept  at  lord  Harrington's  house,  in  Warwickshire  ;  and  sir 
Edward  Digby  was  to  seize  her,  and  immediately  proclaim 
her  queen. 

4.  The  day  for  the  sitting  of  parliament  now  approached. 
Never  was  treason  more  secret,  or  ruin  more  apparently 
inevitable  ;  the  hour  was  expected  with  impatience,  and  the 
conspirators  gloried  in  their  meditated  guilt.  The  dreadful 
secret,  though  communicated  to  above  twenty  persons,  had 
been  religiously  kept  during  the  space  of  nearly  a  year  and 
a  half;  but  when  all  the  motives  of  pity,  justice,  and  safety, 
were  too  weak  to  induce  a  disclosure,  a  remorse  of  private 
friendship  saved  the  kingdom.  Sir  Henry  Percy,  one  of  the 
conspirators,  conceived  a  design  of  saving  the  life  of  lord 
Mounteagle,  his  intimate  friend  and  companion,  who  was 
also  a  decided  catholic.  Accordingly  about  ten  days  before 
the  meeting  of  parliament,  this  nobleman,  without  himself 
knowing  the  writer,  received  the  following  letter — 

5.  "  My  lord,  out  of  the  love  I  bear  to  some  of  your 
friends,  I  have  a  care  of  your  preservation.    Therefore  I 


How  wan  the  gun-powder  trnason  difeevertci  f 


GUN-POWDER  TREASON. 


221 


irould  advise  you,  as  you  value  your  life,  to  devise  some  ex- 
eiue  to  shifl  oif  your  attendance  in  this  parliament.  For 
God  and  man  have  concurred  to  punish  the  wickedness  of 
the  times.  And  think  not  lightly  of  this  advertisement;  but 
retire  yourself  into  the  country,  vvrhere  you  may  '^xpect  the 
event  in  safety.  For,  though  there  be  no  appearance  of  any 
stir,  yet,  I  say  they  will  receive  a  terrible  blow  this  parlia- 
ment, and  yet  they  shall  not  see  who  hurts  them.  This 
counsel  is  not  to  be  contemned,  because  it  may  do  you  good, 
and  can  do  you  no  hurt — for  the  danger  is  past,  as  soon  as 
you  have  burnt  this  letter.     And  I  hope  God  will  give  you 

face  to  make  a  good  use  of  it,  unto  whose  holy  protection 
commend  you." 

6.  The  contents  of  this  mysterious  letter  surprised  and 
puzzled  the  nobleman  to  whom  it  was  addressed  ;  and 
though  inclined  to  think  it  a  foolish  attempt  to  affright  an^J 
ridicule  him,  yet  he  judged  it  safest  to  carry  it  to  lord  Salis- 
bury, secretary  of  state.  Lord  Salisbury  too  was  inclined  to 
give  little  attention  to  it,  yet  thought  to  lay  it  before  the  king 
in  council,  who  came  to  town  a  few  days  after.  None  of  tlie 
council  were  able  to  make  any  thing  of  it,  although  it  ap- 
peared rather  serious  and  alarming.  In  this  universal  agita- 
tion, between  doubt  and  apprehension,  the  king  was  the  first 
who  penetrated  the  meaning  of  this  dark  epistle.  He  coji^i- 
cluded  that  some  sudden  danger  was  preparing  with  gun-pow- 
der ;  and  it  was  thought  advisable  to  inspect  all  the  vauljls 
below  the  houses  of  parliament.  I^his  care  belonged  to  the 
earl  of  Suffolk,  lord  chamberlain,  who  purposely  delayed  the 
search  till  thi  day  before  the  meeting  of  parliament. 

7.  He  now  discovered  and  seized  Guy  Fawkes,  actually 
engaged  in  the  terrible  enterprise,  having  just  disposed  every 
part  of  the  train  for  its  talking  fire  next  morning,  the  matches 
and  other  combustibles  being  found  in  his  }>oclcets.  The 
whole  of  the  design  was  now  discovered ;  but  the  atrocious- 
ness  of  his  guilt,  and  the  despair  of  pardon,  inspiring  him 
with  resolution,  he  told  the  officers  of  justice,  with  tm  un- 
daunted air,  that  had  he  blown  them  and  himself  up  together, 
he  had  been  happy.  Before  the  council,  he  displayed  the 
same  intrepid  firmness,  mixed  even  with  scorn  and  disdain, 


Which  ono  of  the  conspirators  was  seen  and  seizod  in  preparing  the 
train  of  powder  ? 


2da 


DISAPPOINTED  AMBITION. 


refusing  to  discover  his  associates,  and  showing  no  concern 
but  for  the  failure  of  his  enterprise.  But  his  boM  spirit  was 
ot  length  subdued  ;  being  confined  to  the  Tower  for  two  or 
three,  days,  and  the  rack  just  shown  him,  his  courage,  fa- 
tigued with  so  long  an  effort,  at  last  failed  him,  and  he  made 
a  full  discovery  of  all  his  accomplices. 

8.  Catesby,  Percy,  and  the  conspirators  who  were  in  Lon- 
don, hearing  that  Fawkes  was  arrested,  fled  with  all  speed  to 
Warwickshire,  where  sir  Edward  Digby,  relying  on  the  suc- 
cess of  the  plot,  was  already  in  arms.  But  the  country  soon 
began  to  take  the  alarm,  and  wherever  they  turned,  they 
Imnd  a  superior  force  ready  to  oppose  them.  In  this  exi- 
gence, beset  on  all  sides,  they  resolved,  to  about  the  number 
of  eighty  persons,  to  fly  no  further,  but  made  a  stand  at  a 
house  in  Warwickshire,  to  defend  it  to  the  last,  and  sell  their 
lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 

9.  But  even  this  miserable  consolation  was  denied  them ; 
a  spark  of  fire  happening  to  fall  among  some  gun-powder 
that  was  laid  to  dry,  it  blew  up,  and  so  maimed  the  principal 
conspirators,  that  the  survivors  resolved  to  open  the  gate,  and 
sally  out  against  the  multitude  that  surrounded  the  house. 
Some  were  instantly  cut  to  pieces.  Catesby,  Percy,  and 
Winter,  standing  back  to  back,  fought  long  and  desperately, 
till  in  the  end  the  two  first  fell  covered  wilh  wounds,  and 
Winter  was  taken  alive.  Those  that  survived  the  slaughter 
Were  tried  and  convicted  ;  several  fell  by  the  hands  of  the 
executioner,  and  others  experienced  the  king's  mercy.  The 
Jesuits,  Garnet  and  Oldcorn,  who  were  privy  to  the  plot,  suf- 
fered with  the  rest;  and  notwithstanding  the^atrociousness 
of  their  treason,  Garnet  was  considered  by  his  party  as  a 
martyr,  and  miracles  were  said  to  have  been  wrought  by  his 
blood. 


DISAPPOINTED  AMBITION. 

In  full  blown  dignity,  see  Wolsey  stand, 
Law  ip  his  voice,  and  fortune  !n  his  hand ; 


Whftt  induced  Guj  FawkM  to  reveal  the  names  of  hie  aeeomplioee  ? 


DISAPPOINTED  AMBITION. 


To  him  the  church,  the  realm,  their  powers  consign, 
Through  him  the  rays  of  regal  bounty  shine  ;  . 
Turn'd  by  his  nod  the  stream  of  honor  flows, 
His  smile  alone  securjity  bestows — 
Stili  to  new  heights  his  restless  wishes  tow'r  ; 
Claim  leads  to  claim,  and  pow'r  advances  pow'r ; 
Till  conquest  unresisted  ceasM  to  please, 
And  rights  submitted,  left  him  none  to  seize. 

At  length  his  sovereign  frowns^  the  train  of  state 
Mark  the  keen  glance,  and  watch  the  sign  to  hate ; 
Where'er  he  turns,  he  meets  a  stranger's  eye, 
His  suppliants  scorn  him,  and  his  followers  fly  ; 
Now  drops  at  once  the  pride  of  awful  state. 
The  golden  canopy,  the  glittering  plate. 
The  regal  palace,  the  luxurious  board. 
The  liv'ried  army,  and  the  menial  lord. 
With  age,  with  cares,  with  maladies  oppressed, 
He  seeks  the  refuge  of  monastic  rest. 

Grief  aids  disease,  remember'd  folly  stings. 
And  his  last  sighs  reproach  the  faith  of  kings  ; 
Speak  thou,  whose  thoughts  at  humble  peace  repioe, 
Shall  Wolsey's  wealth,  with  Wolsey's  end,  bo  thine 
Or  liv'st  thou  now,  with  safer  pride  content,  ' 
The  wisest  justice  on  the  banks  of  Trent  ? 
For  why  did  Wolsey,  neai:  the  steeps  of  fate; 
On  weak  foundations  raise  th'  enormous  weight  t 
Why,  but  to  sink  beneath  misfortune's  blow, 
Witn  louder  ruin  to  tjie  gulfs  below  ? 
What  gave  great  Villiers  to  th'  assassin*S  knife, 
And  fix'd  disease  on  Harley's  closing  life  ? 
What  murder'd  Wentworth,  and  what  exil'd  Hyde, 
By  kings  protected,  and  to  kings  ally'd  ? 
What,  but  their  wish  indulg'd,  in  courts  to  shine, 
And  pow'r  too  great  to  keep  or  to  resign  1 


as^s 


THE  AGED  PRISONER. 


I 


THE* AGED  PRISONER. 

1.  Upon  the  accession  of  Louis  sixteenth  to  the  throne 
the  ministers  then  in  office,  moved  by  humanity,  began  their 
administration  with  an  act  of  clemency  and  justice.  They 
inspected  the  registers  of  the  Bastile,  and  set  many  prisoners 
at  liberty.  Among  them  was  an  old  man  who  had  groaned 
in  confinement  for  forty-seven  years,  between  four  thick  and 
cold  store  walls.  Hardened  by  adversity,  which  strengthens 
both  the  mind  and  constitution,  when  they  are  not  over- 
powered by  it,  he  had  resisted  the  horrors  of  his  long  inu- 
prisonment  with  an  invincible  and  manly  spirit. 

2.  His  locks,  white,  thin,  and  scattered,  had  almost  ac- 
quired the  rigidity  of  iron  ;  whilst  his  body,  environed  for  so 
long  a  time  by  a  coffin  of  stone,  had  borrowed  from  it  a  firm 
and  compact  habit.  The  narrow  door  of  his  tomb,  turning 
upon  its  grating  hinges,  opened  not  as  usual  by  halves,  and 
an  unknown  voice  announced  his  liberty,  and  bade  him  de- 
part. Believing  this  to  be  a  dream,  he  hesitated ;  but  at 
length  rose  up  and  walked  forth  with  trembling  steps,  amazed 
at  the  space  he  traversed.  The  stairs  of  the  prison,  the  halls, 
the  court,  seemed  to  him  vast,  immense,  and  almost  without 
bounds. 

3.  He  stopped  from  time  to  time,  and  gazed  around  like  a 
bewildered  traveller.  His  vision  was  with  difficulty  recon- 
ciled to  the  clear  light  of  day.  He  contemplated  the  heavens 
as  a  new  object.  His  eyes  remained  fixed,  and  he  could  not 
even  weep.  Stupified  with  the  newly  acquired  power  of 
changing  his  position,  his  limbs,  like  his  tongue,  refused,  in 
spite  of  his  efforts,  to  perform  their  office.  At  length  he  got 
through  the  formidable  gate. 

4.  When  he  felt  the  motion  of  the  carriage,  which  wal*pre- 
pared  to  transport  him  to  his  former  habitation,  he  screamed 
out,  and  uttered  some  inarticulate  sounds  ;  and  as  he  could 
not  bear  this  new  movement,  he  was  obliged  to  descend. 
Supported  by  a  benevolent  arm,  he  sought  out  the  street 
where  he  had  formerly  resided ;  he  found  it,  but  no  trace 
of  his  house  remained  ;  one  of  the  public  edifices  occupied 
the  spot  where  it  had  stood. 


In  whose  reiffti  was  there  a  general  release  of.  prisoners  from  tlid 
French  Bastile  r — How  long  had  the  aged  prisoner  been  confinecl  ? 


THE  AGED  PRISONER. 


225 


6.  He  saw  nothing  which  brought  to  his  recollection,  either 
that  particular  quarter,  the  city  itself,  or  the  objects  with 
which  he  was  formerly  acquainted.  The  houses  of  his  near- 
est neighbors,  which  were  fresh  in  his  memory  had  assumed 
a  new  appearance.  In  vain  were  his  looks  directed  to  all 
the  objects  around  him  ;  he  could  discover  nothing  of  wliich 
he  had  the  smallest  remembrance.  Terrified,  he  stopped 
""d  fetched  a  deep  sigh.     To  him  what  did  it  import,  that 

city  was  peopled  with  living  creatures  ?  None  of  them 
were  alive  to  him ;  he  was  unknown  to  all  the  world,  and  he 
knew  nobody ;  and  whilst  he  wept,  he  regretted  his  dungeon. 
^  6.  At  the  name  of  the  Bastile,  which  he  often  pronounced 
and  even  claimed  as  an  asylum,  and  the  sight  of  his  clothes 
which  marked  his  former  age,  the  crowd  gathered  around 
him ;  curiosity,  blended  with  pity,  excited  their  attention. 
The  most  aged  asked  him  many  questions,  but  had  no  re- 
membrance of  the  circumstances  which  he  recapitulated. 
At  length  accident  brought  to  his  way  an  ancient  domestic 
now  a  superannuated  porter,  who,  confined  to  his  I  )dge  for 
fifteen  years,  had  barely  sufficient  strength  to  open  the  gate. 
^  n  he  did  not  know  the  master  he  had  served ;  but  in-^ 
3d  him  that  grief  and  misfortune  had  brougiit  his  wife 
to  the  grave  thirty  years  before  ;  that  his  children  were  gone 
abroad  to  distant  climes,  and  that  of  ail  his  relations  and 
friends,  none  now  remained. 

7.  This  recital  was  made  with  the  indifference  which  peo- 
ple discover  for  the  events  long  passed  and  almost  forgotten. 
The  miserable  man  groaned,  and  groaned  alone.  The  crowd 
around,  offering  only  unknown  features  to  his  view,  made 
him  feel  the  excess  of  his  calamities  even  rnore  than  he 
would  have  done  in  the  dreadful  solitude  which  he  had  left. 
Overcome  with  sorrow,  he  presented  himself  before  the  rai^ 
nister,  to  whose  humanity  he  owed  that  liberty  which  was  now 
become  a  burden  to  him.  Bowing  down,  he  said,  '*  Restore 
me  again  to  that  prison  from  which  you  have  taken  nje.  I 
cannot  survive  the  loss  of  my  nearest  relations  ;  of  my 
friends  ;  and  in  one  word,  of  a  whole  generation.  Is  it  pos- 
sible in  the  same  moment  to  be  informed  of  this  universal 
destruction  and  not  to  wish  for  death  ? 


What  waa  the  reason  of  his  wishing  to  be  again  returned  to  t\M 


Bastile  ? 


«1 


826 


THE  INaCISITION. 


^ 


I 


8.  '*  This  general  mortality,  which  to  others  comes  slowlj 
and  by  degrees,  has  to  me  been  instantaneous,  the  operation 
of  a  moment.  Whilst  secluded  from  society,  I  lived  with 
myself  only ;  but  here  I  can  neither  live  with  myself,  nor 
with  this  new  race,  to  whom  my  anguish  and  despair  appear 
only  as  a  dream."  The  minister  was  melted ;  he  caused  the 
old  domestic  to  attend  this  unfortunate  person,  as  only  he 
could  talk  to  him  of  his  family. 

9,  This  discourse  was  the  single  consolation  which  he  re- 
ceived ;  for  he  shunned  intercourse  with  the  new  race,  born 
since  he  had  been  exiled  from  the  world  ;  and  he  passed  his 
time  in  the  midst  of  Paris  in  the  same  solitude  as  he  had 
done  whilst  confined  in  a  dungeon  for  almost  half  a  century. 
But  the  chagrin  and  mortification  of  meeting  no  person  who 
could  say  to  him,  "  We  were  formerly  known  to  each  other," 
<iOon  put  an  end  to  his  existence.     , 


THE  INQUISITION. 

1.  The  court  of  Inquisition  was  founded  in  the  year  1204, 
or  not  long  after  that  time.  To  Dominic  de  Guzman,  the 
honor  of  first  suggesting  the  erection  of  this  extraordinary 
court  is  commonly  ascribed.  He  was  born  in  the  year  1 170, 
descended  from  an  iilastrious  Spanish  family.  He  was  edu- 
cated for  the  priesthood ;  and  grew  up  the  most  fiery  and 
the  most  bloody  of  mortals.  Before  his  time,  every  Bishop 
was  a  sort  of  inquisitor  in  his  own  <liocese ;  but  Dominic 
contrived  to  incorporate  a  body  of  men,  independent  of  every 
human  bein/r,  except  the  Pope,  for  the  purpose  of  ensnaring 
and  desti'oying  Christians.  Having  succeeded  in  his  diabo- 
lical designs,  and  formed  a  race  like  himself,  first  called 
preaching,  and  then  Dominican  friars,  he  died  in  his  bed, 
was  canonized  as  a  saint,  worshipped  as  a  divinity,  and  pro- 
posed as  a  model  of  piety  and  virtue  to  ijuccfjeding  genera- 
tions ! 

%  The  Pope  gave  the  Ir^iquisitors  the  most  unlimited  pow- 
ers, as  judges  delegated  by  him,  and  imrrediateiy  represent- 


When  was  tho  Inquisition  founded  P-— By  whom  wm  it  fouxUSad  •- 
What  powers  were  j^iven  thd  IriquiBitorA  i* 


^Fm 


THE  INaUISITION. 


227 


ing  hid  person,  they  were  permitted  to  excommunicatei  or 
sentence  to  death,  whum  they  thought  proper,  upon  the 
slightest  information  of  heresy ;  were  allowed  to  publish  cru- 
sade against  all  whom  they  deemed  heretics ;  and  enter  into 
leagues  with  sovereign  princes,  to  join  those  crusades  with 
their  forces.  About  the  year  1244,  their  power  was  further 
increased  by  the  emperor  Frederic  the  Second,  who  declar- 
ed himself  the  protector  and  friend  of  all  In<|uisitors,  ana 
published  two  very  cruel  edicts,  viz.  that  all  heretics,  who 
continued  obstinate,  should  be  burnt ;  and  that  all  heretics, 
fvho  repented,  should  be  imprisoned  for  life.  This  zeal  in 
the  emperor  for  the  Inquisitors,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  per-^ 
suasion,  arose  from  d  report  which  had  been  propagated 
throughout  Europe,  that  he  intended  to  turn  Mahometan ; 
the  emperor  therefore  attempted,  by  tlie  height  of  bigotry 
and  cruelty,  to  show  his  attachment  to  popery. 

3.  Pope  Innocent  IV.  endeavored  to  establish  the  Inqui* 
sition  on  a  permanent  foundation.  It  was  every  where  in- 
trusted to  the  care  of  Dominican  friars.  But  many  of  the 
most  populous  states  that  were  subject  to  the  see  of  Rome, 
never  permitted  the  establishment  of  the  tribunal  among 
them.  In  Fiance  it  was  early  introduced,  but  soon  after 
expelled,  in  such  a  manner,  as  effectually  to  preclude  a  re- 
newal of  the  attempt.  Nor  has  it  been  alike  severe  in  every 
place  into  which  it  has  been  introduced.  In  Spain  and 
Portugal  this  scourge  and  disgrace  to  humanity  has  for  cen- 
turies glared  with  its  most  frightful  aspect.  In  Rome  it  has 
been  much  more  tolerable.  Papal  avarice  has  served  to 
counterbalance  papal  tyranny.  The  wealth  of  modern 
Rome  has  arisen  very  much  from  the  const  mt  resort  of 
strangers  from  all  countries  and  of  all  denominations.  This 
would  have  been,  in  a  great  measure,  prevented  by  such  a 
horrid  tribunal  as  existed  at  Lisbon  and  Madrid. 

4.  Exclusive  of  the  cruel  punishments  inflicted  by  the 
holy  office,  it  may  be  truly  affirmed,  that  the  Inquisition  is  a 
school  of  vice.  There  the  artful  judge,  grown  old  in  habits 
of  subtlety,  along  with  the  sly  secretary,  practises  his  cun- 
ning in  interrogating  a  prisoner,  to  fix  a  charge  of  heresy. 

1  , 

t^m ■■     II,  ■     ■   —..i^M.  .iM       ■    ■— I  -!■     I  11  II  I ^— ^»i— ^«—  —         ■■     ■■■  IIIW 

What  two  edicts  were  puMished  by  TVederic  II.  ? — Was  the  Inqui- 
sition permitted  to  be  established  in  all  the  States  subject  to  Rome  f 
— In  what  places  has  it  been  carried  to  the  ^eatest  extent  ? — What 
term  may  be  justly  applied  to  the  Inquisition  ? 


■.•'?^T'.'??! 


226 


THE  INQUISITION. 


p^- 


r-*. 


Now  he  fawns,  and  then  he  frowns ;  now  he  sooths,  ap<| 
then  he  looks  dark  and  angry  ;  sometimes  affects  to  pity  ajnij^ 
to  pray,  at  other  times,  jnsults  and  buliios ;  anfi  talks  of 
racks  and  dungeon?,  flames,  and  the  damnation  of  helj. 
One  while,  he  lays  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  sheds  tears; 
and  promises  and  protests,  he  desires  not  the  death  of  a  sin- 
ner ;  but  would  rather  that  he  would  turn  and  live;  and  all 
that  he  can  do,  he  will  do,  for  the  discharge,  and  even  for 
the  preferment,  of  his  imprisoned  brother.  Another  while, 
he  discovers  himself  as  deaf  as  l  rock,  false  as  the  wind,  and 
oruel  as  the  poison  of  asps. 

6.  The  court  of  Inquisition,  although  it  wa.«  \ot  the  pa- 
rent, has  been  the  nurse  and  guardian  of  ignorance  and  su- 
perstition wherever  it  has  prevailed.  It  was  introduce  ito 
Spain,  or  promoted  there,  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella ;  and 
was  principally  intended  to  prevent  the  relivpse  of  the 
Jews  and  Moors,  who  had  been  converted,  or  who  pretend- 
ed to  be  converted,  to  the  faith  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Its 
jurisdiction,  however,  was  not  confined  to  the  Jews  and 
Moors ;  but  extended  to  all  those,  who  in  their  practice  or 
opinions,  differed  from  the  established  Church.  In  the  united 
kingdom  of  Castile  and  Arragon,  there  were  18  different  In- 
quisitorial courts,  having  each  its  counsellors,  termed  apos- 
tolical inquisitors,  its  secretaries,  serjeantg,  and  other  officers; 
and  besides  these,  there  were  20,000  familiars  dispersed 
throughout  the  kingdom,  who  acted  as  spies  and  informers, 
and  were  employed  to  apprehend  all  suspected  persons,  and 
commit  them  for  trial,  to  the  prisons  which  belonged  to  the 
Inquisition.  P.y  these  familiars,  persons  were  seized  on  bare 
suspicion,  and,  in  contradiction  to  the  established  rules  of 
equity,  they  were  put  to  the  torture,  tried  and  condemned 
by  the  Inquisitors,  without  being  confronted,  either  with 
their  accusers,  or  with  the  witnesses  on  whose  evidence  they 
were  coiidemned.  The  punishments  inflicted  were  more  or 
loss  dreadful,  according  to  the  caprice  and  humor  of  the 
iiivlges.  The  unhappy  victims  were  either  strangled,  or  com- 
mitted to  the  flames,  or  loaded  with  chains,  and  shut  up  in 
dungeons  durin'jr  life — their  effects  conflscated,  and  their 
families  stigmatized  with  infamy. 


Who  promoted  the  courts  of  Inquisition  in  Spain? — How  inaiiy 
WOTtt  they  ?  • 


THE  INQUISITION. 


^) 


7.  This  institution  was,  no  doubt,  well  calculated  to  pro- 
duce a  uniformity  of  religious  professions  ;  but  it  had  a  ten- 
dency also  to  destroy  the  sweets  of  social  life,  to  banish  all 
freedom  of  thought  and  speech,  to  disturb  men's  minds  with 
the  most  disquieting  apprehensions!,  and  to  produce  the  most 
intolerable  slavery,  Ly  reducing  persons  of  all  ranks  in  life. 
to  a  state  of  abject  dependence  upon  priests  ;  whoso  integrity, 
were  it  even  greater  than  that  of  other  men,  thougli  in  every 
false  profession  of  religion  it  is  less,  must  have  been  corrupt- 
ed by  the  uncontrolled  authority  whi«h  they  were  allowed  to 
exercise.  By  this  tribunal,  a  visible  change  was  v/roiight  in 
the  temper  of  the  people;  and  reserve,  distrust,  and  jealousy, 
became  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  a  Spaniard.  It 
confirmed  and  perpetuated  the  reign  of  ignorance  and  su- 
perstition, inflamed  to  rage  religious  bigotry,  and  by  the 
cruel  spectacles  to  which,  in  the  exedution  of  its  decrees,  it 
familiarized  the  people,  it  nourished  m  them  that  ferocious 
spirit  which,  in  the  Netherlands  and  America,,  they  mani- 
fested by  the  deeds  that  haye  fixed  an  indelible  reproach 
upon  the  Spanish  name. 

8.  Authors  of  undoubted  credit  afiirm,  and  without  the 
least  exaggeration,  that  millions  of  persons  have  been  ruined 
by  this  horrible  court.  Moors  were  banished,  a  million  at  a 
time.  Six  or  eight  hundred  thousand  Jews  were  driven  away 
at  once,  and  their  immense  riches  seized  by  their  accusers, 
and  distributed  among  their  persecutors,  while  thousands 
dissembled  and  professed  themsdlves  Christians,  only  to  be 
harassed  in  future.  Heretics  of  all  ranks  and  of  various  de- 
nominations were  imprisoned  and  burnt,  or  fled  into  other 
countries.  The  gloom  of  despotism  overshadowed  all  Spain 
The  people  at  first  reasoned,  and  then  rebelled,  and  murder- 
ed the  Inquisitors  ;  the  aged  murmured  and  died  ;  the  next 
generation  repined  and  complained  ;  but  their  successors 
were  completely  tamed  by  education  ;  and  until  very  lately 
the  Spaniards  liave  been  trained  up  by  their  priests  to  shud- 
der at  the  thought  of  thinking  for  themselves. 

9.  A  simple  narrative  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion has  shocked  the  world,  aad  the  cruelty  of  it  has  becoma 


Wliat  t  _  iency  had  the  Inquisition  ? — What  number  of  persons 
have  been  ruined  by  this  corrt  ? — What  has  most  fully  displayed  to 
Uia  eyes  of  mankind  the  temper  of  the  papal  religion  f 
2lt 


230 


THE  mauisiTioN. 


ji 


•  i 


proverbial.  Nothing  ever  displayed  so  fully  to  the  eyes  of 
mankind  the  spirit  and  temper  of  the  papal  religion.  Let 
us  hear  the  description  which  Voltaire,  a  very  competent 
witness,  gives  of  it.  "  Their  form  of  proceeding  is  an  infalli- 
ble way  to  destroy  whomsoever  the  Inquisitors  wish.  The 
prisoners  are  not  confronted  with  the  accuser  or  informer. 
Nor  is  there  any  informer  or  witness,  who  is  not  listened  to: 
a  public  convict,  a  notorious  malefactor,  an  infamous  person, 
a  child,  are  in  holy  office,  though  no  where  else,  credible 
accusers  and  witnesses.  Even  the  son  may  depose  against 
his  father,  the  wife  against  her  husband."  The  wretched 
prisoner  is  no  more  made  acquainted  with  his  crime  than 
with  his  accuser,  and  were  he  told  the  one,  it  might  possibly 
lead  him  to  guess  the  other. 

10.  To  avoid  this,  he  is  compelled,  by  tedious  conihie- 
ment  in  a  noisome  dungeon,  where  he  never  sees  a  face  but 
the  jailer's,  and  is  not  permitted  the  use  of  either  books  or 
pen  and  ink — or  should  confinement  alone  not  be  sufficient, 
he  is  compelled,  by  the  most  excruciating  tortures,  to  inform 
against  himself,  to  discover  and  confess  the  crime  laid  to  his 
charge,  of  which  he  is  oflen  ignorant.  This  procedure, 
unheard  of  till  the  institution  of  this  court,  makes  the  whole 
l^jngdom  tremble.  Suspicion  reigns  in  every  breast.  Friend- 
ship and  quietness  are  at  an  end*  The  brother  dreads  his 
brother ;  the  father  his  son.  Hence  taciturnity  has  become 
the  characteristic  of  a  nation,  endued  with  all  the  vivacity 
natural  to  the  inhabitants  of  a  warm  and  fruitful  climate. 
To  this  tribunal  we  must  likewise  impute  that  profound  ig- 
norance of  sound  philosophy,  in  which  Spain  lies  buried, 
while  Germany,  England,  France,  and  even  Italy,  have  dis- 
covered so  many  truths,  and  enlarged  the  sphere  of  our 
knowledge.  Never  is  human  nature  so  debased  as  where 
ignorance  is  armed  with  power. 

11.  But  these  melancholy  effects  of  the  Inquisition  are  a 
trifle  when  compared  with  those  public  z^criiices,  called 
Auto  da  Fe,  or  Act  of  Faith,  and  to  the  shocking  barbari- 
ties that  precede  them.  A  priest  in  a  white  surplice,  r.  a 
Aionk  who  has  vowed  meekness  and  humility,  causes  his 


What  is  tho  prisoner  compelled  to  do  by  the  inquisitorial  courts  ? 
—What  is  tho  ignorance  of  philosophy  in  Spain  to  bo  imputed  to  P 
— When  is  human  nature  most  debased  P — By  what  name  are!  the  pub« 
lie  sacrifices  called  ? 


■  -■  -■^■«i 


itUjjmm^ 


THE  INQUISITION 


2ai 


fellow  creatures  to  be  put  to  the  torture  in  a  distual  dungeon. 
A  stage  is  erected  in  the  public  market  place,  where  the  con- 
demned prisoners  are  conducted  to  the  stake,  attended  with 
a  train  of  monks  and  religious  confraternities.  They  sing 
psalms,  say  mass,  and  butcher  mankind.  Were  a  native  of 
Asia  to  come  to  Madrid  upon  a  day  of  an  execution  of  ihiai 
sort,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  tell  whether  it  were  a 
rejoicing,  a  religious  feast,  a  sacrifice,  or  a  massacre  ;  and 
yet  it  is  all  these  together !  The  kings,  whose  presence 
alone  in  other  cases  is  the  harbinger  of  mercy,  assist  at  this 
spectacle,  uncovered,  seated  lower  than  the  Inquisitors,  and 
ve  spectators  of  their  subjects  expiring  in  the  flames. 

12.  The  following  is  an  account  of  an  Auto  da  JPe,  per- 
formed at  Madrid  in  the  year  1682.  The  officers  of  the  In- 
quisition, preceded  by  trumpets,  kettle-drums,  and  their  ban- 
ner, marched  on  the  30th  of  May,  in  cavalcade,  to  the  pa- 
lace of  the  great  square,  where  they  declared  by  proclama- 
tion, that  on  the  30th  of  June  the  sentence  of  the  prisoners 
would  be  put  in  execution.  There  had  not  been  a  spectacle 
of  this  kind  at  Madrid  for  several  years  before,  for  which 
reason  it  was  expected  by  the  inhabitants  with  as  iriuch  im* 
patience  as  a  day  of  the  greatest  festivity  and  triumph. 
When  the  day  appointed  arrived,  a  prodigious  number  of 
people  appeared,  dressed  as  splendid  as  their  respective  cir- 
cumstances would  admit.  In  the  great  square  was  raised  a 
high  scaffold,  and  thither,  from  seven  in  the  morning  till  the 
evening,  were  brought  criminals  of  both  sexes  ;  aW  the  In- 
quisitions in  the  kingdom  sending  their  prisoners  to  Madrid. 

13.  There  was  among  those  who  were  to  suffer,  a  young 
Jewess  of  exquisite  beauty,  and  but  seventeen  years  of  age. 
Being  on  the  same  side  of  the  scaffold  where  the  queen  was 
seated,  she  addressed  her  in  the  following  pathetic  speech ; 
"  Great  queen  !  will  not  your  royal  presence  be  of  some  ser- 
vice to  me  in  my  miserable  condition  1  have  regard  to  my 
youth;  and  oh  !  consider  that  I  am  about  to  die  for  professing 
a  religion  imbibed  from  my  earliest  infancy  !"  Her  majesty 
seemed  greatly  to  pity  her  distress,  but  turned  away  her  eyes, 
as  she  did  not  dare  to  speak  a  word  in  behalf  of  a  person 
who  had  been  declared  a  heretic  by  the  Inquisition. 

14.  Mass  now  began,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  priest 


At  what  time,  and  whert  was  an  Auto  da  Fi  p»rfbrm«d  f 


233 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 


if! 


came  from  the  altar,  placed  near  the  scaifold,  and  seated 
himself  in  a  chair  prepared  for  that  purpose.  Then  the  chief 
Inquisitor  descended  from  the  amphitheatre,  dressed  in  his 
cope,  and  having  a  mitre  on  his  head  ;  after  bowing  to  tho 
altar,  ho  advanced  towards  the  king's  balcony,  and  Vvcnt  \m 
to  it,  attended  by  some  of  his  officers  carrying  a  cross  and 
the  gospels,  with  a  book  containing  the  oath  by  which  tho 
kings  of  Spain  oblige  themselves  to  protect  the  CathoJio 
faith,  to  extirpate  heretics,  and  support,  with  all  their  power 
Ihe  prosecutions  and  decrees  of  the  Inquisition.  On  the 
approach  of  the  Inquisitor,  and  on  his  presenting  this  book 
to  the  king,  his  majesty  rose  up,  bare-headed,  and  swore  to 
maintain  the  oath,  which  was  read  to  him  by  one  of  his  coun- 
sellors ;  after  which  the  king  continued  standing  till  the  In- 
quisitor had  returned  to  his  place,  when  the  secretary  of 
the  holy  office  mounted  a  sort  of  pulpit,  and  administered  a 
like  oath  to  the  counsellors  and  the  whole  assembly. 

*  15.  The  mass  was  begun  about  twelve  at  noon,  and  did 
not  end  until  nine  in  the  evening,  being  protracted  by  a 
proclamation  of  the  sentences  of  the  several  criminals  which 
were  all  separately  rehearsed  aloud  one  after  the  other. 
Next  followed  the  burning  of  twenty-one  men  and  woinen, 
whose  intrepidity  in  suffering  that  horrid  death  was  asto- 
nishing ;  some  even  thrusting  their  hands  and  feet  into  the 
flames  with  the  most  dauntless  fortitude.  The  situation  of 
the  king  was  so  near  to  the  criminals  that  their  dying  groans 
were  very  audible  to  him  ;  he  could  not,  however,  be  absent 
from  this  dreadful  scene,  as  it  is  esteemed  a  religious  one ; 
and  his  coronation  oath  obliges  him  to  give  a  sanction  by  his 
presence  to  ail  the  acts  of  the  tribunal. 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 

L  Ndsw  England  owes  its  origin,  as  a  civil  and  Christian 
community,  to  a  congregation  of  Puritans  under  the  pastoral 
care  of  the  Rev.  John  Robinson.  Not  being  tolerated  in 
the  exercise  of  that  religious  liberty  which  they  reckoned 


Wha^,  number  of  persons  were  burnt  ? — What  does  the  coronaticn 
oath  of  the  king  oblige  him  to  do  ? — To  whom  does  N«w-England  owi 
ill  origin,  at  a  religioui  and  oivil  community  ? 


LANDING  OF  THE  PILGRIMS 


i 


IfPWWW"-"  "  "^'ip« 


5 

I 

I 


H 


I 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 


233 


necessary  for  their  spiritual  edification  and  growth  in  grace, 
they  resolved  on  emigration  to  some  foreign  country.  Their 
views  were,  at  once,  directed  to  Holland,  where  the  spirit 
of  commerce  had  dictated  a  free  toleration  in  matters  of  faith 
and  worship.  Accordingly,  in  1607,  a  part  of  the  congre- 
gation sailed  for  Amsterdam,  where,  in  the  following  year, 
they  were  joined  by  their  pastor  and  such  others  as  had  been 
obliged  to  remain  behind.  But  from  Amsterdam  they  soon 
judged  it  adviseable  to  remove  to  Leyden.  In  this  place 
they  continued  about  eleven  years,  and  experienced  much 
satisfaction  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  Christian  privileges. 

2.  But  a  continuance  and  permanent  settlement  in  Hol- 
land was  now  viewed  as  defeating,  m  a  great  measure,  the 
object  of  leaving  their  native  couni.  y.  They  were  not  join- 
ed in  Leyden  by  so  many  of  their  English  friends  as  they 
expected,  and  many  of  such  as  did  come  over,  only  specu- 
lated in  trade,  and  added  but  little  to  their  spiritual  prospects. 
A  continuance,  therefore,  in  Holland,  would  finally  be  the 
means  of  scattering  their  families  and  descendants  ;  the  old 
people  would  die,  and  the  young  ones  would  soon  be  amal- 
ganiated  with  the  people  of  their  adopted  country,  and  so 
the  great  object  of  preserving  and  promoting  their  peculiar 
state  of  church  polity  would  be  lost.  Another  removal  was 
considered  a  duty ;  and  after  much  inquiry,  America,  the 
newly  discovered  world,  was  fixed  upon  as  an  asylum. 

3.  It  was  determined  that  a  part  of  them  should  go  and 
prepare  the  way  for  others ;  and  that  if  a  major  part  should 
consent  to  go,  the  pastor  should  go  with  them ;  otherwise  he 
should  remain  in  Holland.  It  was  found,  on  examination, 
that  though  a  major  part  was  willing  to  go,  yet  they  could 
not  get  ready  in  season ;  therefore,  the  greater  number  being 
obliged  to  stay,  they  required  Mr.  Robinson  to  stay  with 
them.  Mr.  Brewster,  the  rulihg  elder,  was  appointed  to  go 
with  the  minority,  who  were  to  be  an  absolute  church  of 
themselves,  as  well  as  those  who  should  stay,  with  this  pro- 
viso, *'  that  as  they  should  go  over  or  return,  they  should  bo 
reputed  as  members,  without  further  dismission  or  testimo- 
nial."    The  others  were  to  follow  as  soon  as  possible. 

4.  On  the  6th  of  September,  1620,  the  company,  consisi- 


Howlong  did  Mr.  Robinson's  society  remain  in  Loydon,  before  re 
loWing  to  remove  to  America  * 


.    .IUPJRBPWJUJII  oil 


234 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 


ing  of  one  hundred  and  one  souls,  exclusive  of  the  crew,  pro- 
ceeded on  their  wyage  in  the  ship  May-Jlower,  commanded 
by  Capt.  Jones.  The  former  part  of  their  passage  was  at- 
tended with  nothing  remarkable,  but  the  latter  exposed  them 
to  frequent  and  great  perils.  "  On  the  ninth  of  November 
they  made  land,  which  proved  to  be  the  sandy  cliffs  of  Cape 
Cod."  Not  the  land  to  which  they,  in  their  own  imagina- 
tion, had  been  directing  their  course.  Hudson's  river  was 
their  object,  a  part  of  the  country  within  the  limits  of  Vir- 
ginia, as  their  charter  had  expressed ;  but  at  Cape  Cod,  they 
were  north  of  that  tract  of  country  nearly  two  degrees.  But 
here  they  were  compelled  to  stay  their  voyage ;  for  though 
they  attempted  to  direct  their  course  to  the  south,  yet  ad- 
verse winds,  a  dangerous  coast,  and  the  unwillingness  of  the 
master  of  the  ship,  constrained  them  to  cast  anchor  on  this 
northern  shore.  The  lana  which  first  struck  their  attention 
was  so  barren,  and  so  destitute  of  every  thing  inviting,  that 
they  explored  their  neighboring  coast  with  their  boat,  till 
a  harbor  across  the  bay  presented  too  many  desirable  ob- 

{'ects  to  justify  any  further  perilous  experiments  and  specu* 
ations. 

5.  Tt  is  evident,  that  the  captain  of  the  May-jlower  was 
bribed  by  the  agents  of  the  Dutch  West  India  Company  to 
take  these  people  to  the  northward  of  their  settlements,  lest 
the  new  settlers  should  prove  an  annoyance  to  their  trade. 
By  this  piece  of  treachery,  they  were  landed  so  far  to  the 
north  as  to  be  out  of  the  bounds  OApressed  'm  their  patent, 
and  that  instrument  could  be  of  no  use  whatever  to  them. 
Of  this  circumstance,  some  unhappy  spirits  on  board  were 
apprised,  and  began  to  boast,  that  as  soon  as  on  shore,  there 
would  be  no  law,  no  restraint.  "  It  was  therefore  thought 
proper,'  before  disembarcation,  that  they  should  enter  into  an 
association,  and  combine  themselves  into  a  political  body,  to 
be  governed  by  a  majority.  To.  this  they  consented ;  and  a 
written  instrument  being  drawn,  they  subscribed  it  with 
their  own  hands,  and  by  unanimous  vote  chose  John  Carver 
their  governor  for  one  year."  This  document  was  signed 
by  forty-one  individuals,  twenty-four  being  heads  of  families, 
and  the  other  seventeen  single  men. 

Hqw  many  made  the  first  company  of  emigrants  ? — Where  did  they 
make  land  ? — Where  did  they  expect  to  land  ? — Why  were  they  carried 
•ofar  north? — How  many  persons  signed  their  articles  of  civil  compact  ? 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 


236 


6.  The  vessel  continued  in  Cape  Cod  Harbor  about  five 
weeks,  during  which  time  four  persons  died  ;  on  the  16th  of 
December  they  crossed  the  bay  and  anchored  in  the  harl  •"• 
of  Plymouth,  a  name  which  they  gave  to  their  inten<le(i 
settlement,  partly  from  the  place  having  been  so  named  in 
captain  Smith's  map,  but  more  especially  "  in  remembrance 
of  the  very  kind  and  friendly  treatment  they  had  received 
from  the  :-^ habitants  of  Plymouth,  d^e  last  port  of  their  na- 
tive country  from  which  they  sailed."  What  could  have 
been  the  cause  of  this  people  undertakii^  this  voyage  and 
settlement,  at  such  a  season  of  the  year,  we  are  not  inform- 
ed ;  but  it  looks  as  if  it  had  been  occasioned  by  some  mishap 
or  oversight  i  for  when  they  made  land,  the  snow  had  begun 
to  fall,  and  winter  was  settinsf  in  fast. 

7.  Upon  their  arrival  at  Plymouth,  having  fixed  upon  the 
best  spot  for  a  town  settlement,  "  they  went  immediately  to 
work,  laying  out  house-lots  ;  felling,  sawing,  riving,  and  car- 
rying timber ;  and  before  the  end  of  December,  though  in- 
terrupted by  stormy  weather,  by  the  death  of  two,  and  by  the 
sickness  of  many  of  their  number,  they  had  erected  a  store 
house  with  a  thatched  roof,  in  which  their  goods  were  de- 
posited, under  a  guard.  Two  rows  of  houses  were  begun, 
and  as  fast  as  they  could  be  covered,  the  people,  who  were 
classed  intb  nineteen  families,  came  ashore  and  lodged  in 
them.  On  Lord's  day,  the  3Jst  of  December,  they  attended 
divine  service  for  the  first  time  on  shore,"  and  dedicated 
their  settlement  to  God,  by  the  name  previously  fixed  upon, 
as  its  standing  designation. 

8.  The  length  of  their  voyage,  including  all  the  delays, 
perils,  disappointments,  and  disasters,  which  attended  it,  * 
voyage  of  134  days,  from  the  time  they  left  Southampton  to 
their  arrival  in  Plymouth  harbor,  ill  prepared  them  to  en- 
dure and  brave  the  rigors  of  a  North  American  winter,  and 
in  a  wilderness  too,  where  there  was  no  asylum  prepared  for 
them,  no  house  built,  no  fresh  and  wholesome  provision,  no 
vegetation,  no  friend  to  receive  them,  or  to  bid  them  wel- 
come. These  afflictive  circumstances,  as  we  may  naturally 
expect,  were  the  cause  of  that  mortal  sickness  which  pre- 
vailed among  this  tribe  of  pilgrim  adventurers,  during  the  first 


When  did  they  land  at  Plymouth  ? — Into  how  many  families  wi 


the  colony  divided  ?        gg 


830 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 


four  monilus  of  their  settlement.  At  the  end  of  March,  the 
Mortal  Bill  stood  thus — "  December,  6 — January,  8— Feb- 
ruary, 17 — March,  13 — Total,  44.  Of  these,  21  were  sub- 
scribers to  the  civil  compact ;  and  23  were  women,  children, 
and  servants. 

9.  At  times,  the  number  of  the  diseased  was  such,  tha 
not  more  than  six  or  seven  were  able  to  attend  the  duties  of 
the  station,  and  these  we^e  almost  wholly  employed  in  attend- 
ing the  sick.  The  crew  of  the  vessel  was  in  a  similar  situa- 
tion, of  which  they  did  not  recover  till  April,  and  then  half 
of  them  had  fallen  victims  to  the  dire  calamity.  Great  as 
this  affliction  was,  it  was  attended  with  some  marks  of  a  kind 
superintending  Providence.  For  the  first  three  months,  no 
Indians  appeared  to  alarm  or  disturb  them.  It  was  found 
afterwards,  that  this  district  had  been  entirely  laid  waste  by 
a  pestilence  (perhaps  the  yellow  fever)  which  had  prevailed 
two  or  three  years  before.  This  fact  was  evinced  by  the  ex- 
tent of  the  fields,  the  number  of  the  graves,  and  the  rem- 
nants of  the  skeletons  lying  on  the  ground. 

10.  The  events  we  have  now  mentioned,  respecting  the 
depopulation  of  this  country,  by  wars  and  pestilence,  consi- 
dered in  reference  to  the  settlement  of  our  fathers  in  the 
desolated  places,  are  certainly  very  remarkable.  The  dan- 
gers to  which  they  were  exposed  from  these  untutored  tribes 
were  greatly  lessened ;  and  the  lands  which  they  occupied 
being  depopulated  and  deserted,  the  rights  of  no  man  were 
infiringed.  The  Pilgrims  of  Plymouth  obtained  their  right  of 
possession  to  the  territory  on  which  they  settled,  by  titles  as 
(kir  and  unequivocal  as  those  by  which  any  human  property 
can  be  held.  Although  it  has  been  adopted  as  a  principle 
of  natural  law,  that  Europeans  had  a  right  to  take  and  occu- 
py &  portion  of  the  American  continent,  since  it  was  not  all 
needed  by  the  natives,  who  were  comparatively  few  in  num- 
ber ;  yet,  it  was  policy  and  seeming  justice,  to  make  the  T 
dians  a  satisfactory  compensation,  on  taking  from  them 
they  had  considered  their  own; 

^'    On  the   ]  6th  of  March  the  inhabitants  of  Plymou 
were  alarmed  at  seeing  a  sturd}'  Indian  walk  into  their  set- 
tlement, and  passing  by  the  houses,  go  directly  where  tlie 
people  were  collected.     He  saluted  them  in  broken  English. 

How  many  piersons  died  the  first  winter  - 


PLYMOUTH  COLONY. 


9t7 


and  bid  them  welcome.  He  was  affable,  and  told  them  hii 
dwelling  was  five  days'  travel  thence  ;  that  he  was  a  sagit- 
more,  or  prince.  He  understood  the  geography  of  the  coiiu- 
try ;  gave  an  account  of  the  different  tribes,  their  sagamores, 
and  number  of  men.  He  had  been  acquainted  with  tlic 
English,  who  had  taken  fish  at  Monhigan,  and  knew  the 
names  of  their  captains.  He  was  naked,  excepting  a  leather 
belt  about  his  waist,  with  a  fringe  a  span  wide.  He  had  a 
bow  and  two  arrows,  was  tall  and  straight,  his  hair  long  be- 
hind, and  short  before.  They  kindly  entertained  him,  and 
gave  him  a  horseman's  coat.  He  tarried  al^  night,  and  in' 
formed  them  that  the  place  where  they  were  was  Patuxet, 
and  that  about  four  years  before,  all  the  inhabitants  had  died ; 
that  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child,  survived. 

12.  Upon  going  away,  he  promised  to  return  in  a  few  days, 
which  he  accordingly  did,  and  brought  five  others  with  him. 
Thus  a  communication  was  opened  between  the  settlers  and 
the  native  tribes  ;  alliances  were  entered  into,  and  great  har- 
mony prevailed.  Squanto,  a  native  who  had  been  kidnapped 
by  the  English  traders  some  time  before,  and  who  had  made 
his  way  back  again,  came  and  took  up  his  abode  with  them, 
and  proved  a  faithful  friend  till  death,  which  happened  the 
following  year.  Squanto,  in  consequence  of  being  thus  car- 
ried to  Europe,  had  escaped  the  universal  mortality  of  his 
tribe  at  Patuxet.  He  was  profitably  employed  for  the  colo- 
ny, during  his  life,  in  making  his  new  friends  acquainted 
with  the  surrounding  country,  and  in  other  usefui  services. 

13.  It  will  be  remembered  that  Mr.  Robinson  remained 
at  Leyden  with  the  majority  of  the  society,  but  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  being  able,  with  more  of  his  flock,  to  join  those 
who  had  emigrated,  at  some  future  but  not  very  distant  time. 
This,  however,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Robinson,  was  not  realiz- 
cu ;  for,  in  the  year  1625,  he  was  taken  to  his  rest,  greatly 
lamented  by  all  who  had  been  blessed  under  his  ministry ; 
bi  soon  after  his  death,  the  remaining  part  of  the  congre- 
gation accomplished  their  wishes,  in  uniting  with  their 
brethren  at  Plymouth.  In  the  year  1629,  the  number  had 
increased  tr  300 ;  having  then  received  a  great  part  of  theii 
brethren  in  Holland ;  among  whom,  were  the  widow  and 


y] 


What  had  become  of  the  native  inhabitants  of  New*EngIand  ?— 
What  Indiai   came  and  resided  with  them  ? 


mmrmm 


2SS 


THE  INDIAN  PRINCESS. 


cliiidren  of  ihci*  dscaaeed  pastor.  Their  increasing  name 
began  to  be  felt  in  the  mother  eountry,  so  that  not  only  did  it 
bring  over  now  settlers,  but  their  patent  was  enlarged  and 
perfected,  so  as  to  give  them  the  power  and  authority  of  a 
body  politic. 

14.  The  22d  of  December  is  celebrated  as  an  anniversary 
festival,  to  commemorate  the  landing  of  the  Plymouth  colony. 
A  discourse  ia  delivered,  idapted  to  the  occasion ;  after  pub- 
lic worship,  more  forcibly  to  impress  their  minds  with  the 
circumstances  of  tbeir  meritorious  forefather^  clams,  fish, 
ground-nuts,  and  victims  from  the  forest,  constitute  a  part  of 
their  grateful  repast.  For  a  number  of  years  the  same  anni- 
versary Was  celebrated  in  Boston  by  the  descendants  of  the 
Plymouth  pilgrims  and  others.  Hcie,  too,  the  festal  board 
displayed  the  style  of  other  times  ;  treasures,  which  had  ^een 
hiddei:  in  the  sand,  and  game  from  the  woods,  mingled  with 
other  p-^ovisions  of  the  table.  It  is  a  festival,  rational  and 
happy  in  ita  tendency.  It  reminds  the  guests*  of  the  virtues 
and  sufferings  of  their  fathers  ;  by  a  comparison  of  circum- 
stances, it  excites  transports  of  gratitude,  elevates  the  affec- 
tions, and  amends  the  heart. 


THE  INDIAN  PRINCESS. 

I.  Perhaps  they,  who  are  not  particularly  acquainted  with 
the  history  of  Virginia,  may  be  ignorant  that  Pocahontas,  an 
Indian  princess,  was  the  protectress  of  the  English,  and  often 
screened  them  from  the  cruelty  of  her  father.  She  was  but 
twelve  years  old,  when  captain  Smith,  the  bravest,  the  most 
intelligent,  and  the  most  humane,  of  the  first  colonists,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  savages.  He  already  understood  their 
language,  had  traded  with  them  several  timos,  and  often  ap- 
peased the  quarrels  between  the  Europeans  and  them.  Often 
had  he  been  obliged  also  to  fight  them  and  punish  their  per- 
fidy. 

%  At  length,  however,  under  the  prfetexi  of  commerce,  he 
was  drawn  into  an  ambush,  and  the  only  two  companions 
who  accompanied  him  fell  before  his  eyes  ;  but  though  alone, 

At  what  ase  was  PocahontaB  when  captain  Smith  foil  into  the 
hands  of  the  Indians  ? 


^^■ 


mtm 


THE  INDIAN  PRINCESS 


c^ 


239 


by  bf 8  dexterity,  he  extricated  himself  from  the  troop  which 
surrounded  him ;  until,  unfortunately,  imagining  he  could 
gave  himself  by  crossing  a  morass,  he  stuck  fast ;  so  that  ti^ie 
5avages,  against  whom  he  had  no  means  of  defending  liini' 
self,  at  last  took  and  bound  him,  and  brought  him  to  Tow- 
liatan.  , 

3.  The  king  was  so  proud  of  having  captain  Smith  in  his 
power,  that  he  sent  him  in  triumph  to  all  the  tributary  prin- 
ces, and  ordered  that  he  should  be  splendidly  treated,  liil  he 
returned  to  suffer  that  death  which  was  prepared  for  him. 
The  fatal  moment  at  length  arrived.  Captain  Smith  was  laid 
upon  the  hearth  of  the  savage  king,  and  his  head  placed 
upon  a  large  stone  to  receive  the  stroke  of  death,  when  Po- 
cahontas, the  youngest  and  darling  daughter  of  Powhatan, 
threw  herself  upon  his  body,  clasped  him  in  her  arms,  and 
declared,  that  if  the  cruel  sentence  was  executed,  the  first 
blow  should  fall  on  her. 

4.  All  savages  (absolute  sovereigns  and  tyrants  net  ex- 
cepted) are  invariably  more  affected  by  the  tears  of  infancy, 
than  the  voice  of  humanity.  Powhatan  could  not  resist  the 
tears  and  prayers  of  his  daughter.  Captain  Smith  conse- 
quently obtained  his  life  on  condition  of  paying  for  his  ran- 
som a  certain  quantity  of  muskets,  powder,  and  iron  utensils ; 
but  how  were  thoy  to  be  obtained  ?  They  would  neither  per- 
mit him  to  return  to  James  Town,  nor  let'  the  English  know 
where  he  was,  lest  they  should  demand  him  sword  in  hand 
Captain  SmitFf,  who  was  as  sensible  as  courageous,  said  thai 
if  Powhatan  would  permit  one  of  his  subjects  to  carry  to 
James  Town  a  leaf  which  he  took  from  his  pocket-book,  he 
should  find  under  a  tree,  at  the  day  and  hour  appointed,  all 
the  firticles  demanded  for  his  ransom. 

t*^.  Powhatan  consented ;  but  without  having  much  faith  in 
his  promises,  believing  it  to  be  only  an  artifice  of  the  captain 
to  prolong  his  life.  But  he  had  written  on  the  leaf  a  few 
lines,  sufficient  to  give  an  account  of  his  situation.  The 
messenger  returned.  The  king  sent  to  the  place  fixed  upon, 
and  was  greatly  astonished  to  find  every  thing  which  had 
been  demanded.  Powhatan  could  not  conceive  this  mode  of 
transmitting  thoughts;  and  captain  Smith  was  henceforth 

How  happened  captain  Smith  to  be  taken  by  the  Indians? — Hotv 
did  Pocahontas  save  his  life  ? 

^^2t 


240 


THE  INDIAN  PRINCESS. 


looked  upon  as  a  great  magician,  to  whonn  ttiey  could  not 
show  too  much  respect.  He  left  the  savages  in  this  opinion 
and  hastened  to  return  home. 

6.  Two  or  three  years  after,  some  fresh  differences  arising 
amidst  them  and  the  English,  Powhatan,  who  no  longer 
thought  them  sorcerers,  but  still  feared  their  power,  laid  a 
horrible  plan  to  get  rid  of  them  altogether.  His  project  was 
to  attack  them  in  profound  peace,  and  cut  the  throats  of  the 
whole  colony.  The  night  of  this  intended  conspiracy,  Poca- 
hontas took  advantage  of  the  obscurity ;  and,  in  a  terrible 
storm,  which  kept  the  savages  in  their  tents,  escaped  from 
her  father's  house,  advised  the  English  to  be  on  their  guard, 
but  conjured  tiiem  to  spare  her  family,  to  appear  ignorant  of 
the  intelligence  she  had  given,  and  terminate  all  their  differ- 
ences by  a  new  treaty. 

7.  It  would  be  tedious  to  relate  all  the  services  which  this 
angel  of  peace  rendered  to  both  nations.  It  shall  only  be 
added,  that  the  English,  it  is  not  known  from  what  motives, 
but  certainly  against  all  faith  and  equity,  thought  proper  to 
carry  her  off.  Long  and  bitterly  did  she  deplore  her  fate, 
and  the  only  consolation  she  had  was  captain  Smith,  in  whom 
she  found  a  second  father.  She  was  treated  with  great  re- 
spect, and  married  to  a  planter  by  the  name  of  Rolfe,  who 
soon  after  took  hei  to  England.  This  was  in  the  reign  of 
James  the  First ;  and  it  is  said  that  the  monarch,  pedantic 
and  ridiculous  in  ev  ery  point,  was  so  infatuated  with  the  pre- 
rogative of  royalty,  that  he  expressed  his  displeasure,  that 
one  of  his  subjects  should  dare  to  marry  the  daughter  even 
of  a  savage  king. 

8.  It  will  not  perhaps  be  difficult  to  decide  on  this  occar 
sion,  whether  it  was  the  savage  king  who  derived  honor  from 
finding  himself  placed  upon  a  level  with  the  European  prince, 
or  the  English  monarch,  who  by  his  pride  and  prejudices,  re- 
duced himself  to  a  level  with  the  chief  of  the  savages.  Be 
that  as  it  will,  captain  Smith,  who  had  returned  to  London 
before  the  arrival  of  Pocahontas,  was  extremely  happy  to  see 
her  again ;  but  dared  not  treat  her  with  the  same  familiarity 
as  at  James  Town.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him,  she  threw  her- 
self into  his  arms,  calling  him  her  father  ;  but  finding  that 


How  came  Pocahontas  to  f«il  into  the  power  of  the  English  ? — To 
whcm  wai  9h«  married  P 


THE  WOULD  AT  REST. 


241 


he  neither  returned  her  caresses  with  equal  warmth,  nor  the 
endearing  title  of  daughter,  she  turned  aside  her  head  and 
wept  bitterly ;  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  they  could  ob- 
tain a  single  word  from  her. 

9.  Captain  Smith  inquired  several  times  what  could  be  the 
cause  of  her  affliction.  *'  What !"  said  she,  "  did  I  not  save 
thy  life  in  America  ?  When  I  was  torn  from  the  arms  of  my 
father,  and  conducted  amongst  thy  friends,  didst  thou  not 
promise  to  he  a  father  to  me  ?  Didst  thou  not  assure  me  that 
if  I  went  into  thy  country,  thou  wouldst  be  my  father,  and 
that  I  should  be  thy  daughter  1  Thou  hast  deceived  me;  and 
behold  me,  now  here,  a  stranger  and  an  orphan."  It  was 
not  difficult  for  the  captain  to  make  peace  with  this  charm- 
ing creature,  whom  he  tenderly  loved.  He  presented  her 
to  several  people  of  the  first  quality;  but  never  dared  to 
take  her  to  court,  from  which,  however,  she  received  several 
favors. 

10.  After  a  residence  of  several  years  in  England,  an  ex 
ample  of  virtue  and  piety,  and  attachment  to  her  husband, 
she  died,  as  she  was  on  the  point  of  embarking  for  America. 
She  left  an  only  son,  who  was  married,  and  left  none  but 
daughters ;  and  from  these  are  descended  some  of  the  prin 
cipsd  characters  in  Virginia. 


THE  WORLD  AT  REST. 

Behold  the  world 
Rests,  and  her  tir'd  inhabitants  have  pausM 
From  trouble  and  turmoil.    The  widow  now 
Has  ceaoM  to  weep,  and  her  twin  orphans  lie 
Lock'd  in  each  arm,  partakers  of  her  rest. 
The  man  of  sorrow  has  forgot  his  woes  ; 
The  outcast,  that  his  head  is  sheltarless. 
His  griefs  unshar'd. — The  mother  tends  no  more 
Her  daughter's  dying  slumbers ;  but,  surprised 
With  heaviness,  and  sunk  upon  her  couch, 
Dreams  of  her  bridals.     E'en  the  hectic,  luU'd 
On  Death's  lean  arrti  to  rest,  in  visions  wrapt, 


Where  did  Pocahontas  spend  the  remainder  of  her  lift  ? — Who  ere 
her  descendants  ? 


ttl 


243       SETTLEMENT  OF  RHODE  ISLAND. 


'■■'  *  ..•  '*.  iJ 


\% 


Crowning  with  hope's  bland  wreath  his  shudd'ring  nurse. 

Poor  victim  !  smiles. Silence  and  deep  repose 

Reign  o'er  the  nations  ;  and  the  warning  voice 

Of  nature  utters  audibly  within 

The  general  moral ; — tells  us,  that  repose, 

Deathlike  as  this,  but  of  far  longer  span, 

Is  coming  on  us — that  the  weary  crowds, 

Who  now  enjoy  a  temporary  calm. 

Shall  soon  taste  lasting  quiet,  wrapt  around 

With  grave-clothes ;  and  their  aching,  restless  heads 

Mould 'ring  in  holes  and  corners  unobserv'd, 

Till  the  last  trump  shall  break  their  sullen  sleep. 


SETTLEMENT  OF  RHODE  ISLAND. 

1.  The  first  European  inhabitants  of  New  England  came 
to  this  country  with  the  professed  design  of  escaping  religious 
persecution ;  but  the  principles  of  religious  liberty  at  that 
time  were  so  little  understood,  that  they  exercised  upon  their 
fellow  Christians,  as  soon  as  possessed  of  the  power,  the 
same  intolerance  which  they  had  professed  to  view  with  so 
much  abhorrence  in  others.  The  state  of  Rhode  Island,  or 
more  properly  of  Rhode  Island  and  Providence  Plantations, 
as  it  is  oalled  in  the  British  charter  which  constituted  it  a 
political  community,  and  under  which  its  civil  government 
is  still  administered,  was  originally  settled  by  persons  who 
resorted  thither  in  order  to  enjoy  those  rights  of  conscience 
in  matters  of  religion  wh.ch  were  not  allowed  them  in 
Massachusetts.  The  state  took  its  name  from  the  two  first 
settlements  within  its  limits. — That  of  Providence  Planta- 
tions was  begun  by  Roger  Williams  and  his  associates  in 
1636 ;  and  that  of  Rhode  Island  was  begun  by  Dr.  John 
Clark,  William  Coddington,  and  others,  about  the  year  1638. 
Besides  these  a  third  settlement  was  begun  bv  Samuel  Gor- 
ton  and  others,  at  Pautuxet'river,  in  the  year  164L 

2.  Roger  Williams  may  with  justice  be,  and  he  usually  is, 
considered  the  founder  of  the  state  and  the  parent  of  the 


From  what  does  the  state  of  Rhode  Island  and  Prnvidcwce  Plantar 
tiona  derive  its  name  ? — Where  and  by  whom  were  the  three  first  set* 
l»ementfl  made  ? — What  induced  them  to  settle  hero  f 


.ND. 

ing  nurse, 
se 


leads 


AND. 

England  came 
ping  religious 
berty  at  that 
ed  upon  their 
2  power,  the 
view  with  so 
de  Island,  or 

Plantations, 
nstituted  it  a 

government 
persons  who 
f  conscience 
ved  them  in 

he  two  first 
ence  Planta- 
Lssociates  in 
jy  Dr.  John 
le  year  1638. 
Samuel  Gor- 

41. 

le  usually  is, 

arent  of  the 


ideuce  Plantv 
three  firit  sot* 


I 


SETTLEMENT  OP  RHODE  ISLAND.       243 

religious  freedom  which  has  ever  prevailed  in  it.  He  was  a 
native  of  Wales,  born  in  the  year  1598,  and  had  a  liberal 
education,  under  the  patronage  of  Sir  Edward  Coke.  The 
occasion  of  his  receiving  the  favor  of  that  distinguished  law- 
yer was  very  singular.  Sir  Edward,  one  day,  at  church,  ob- 
serving a  youth  taking  note^  from  a  sermon,  beckoned  and 
received  him  into  his  pew^  He  obtained  sight  of  the  notes, 
which  were  a  judicious  Section  of  the  most  interesting  sen- 
timents delivered  by  the  preacher.  This  united  with  his 
great  modesty  induced  Sir  Edward  to  solicit  the  parents  of 
young  Williams  to  let  i?im  have  the  care  of  their  son.  The 
request  was  readily  granted,  and  he  soon  entered  upon  tho 
study  of  the  law.  Mr.  >Villiams  received  all  possible  assist- 
ance from  his  generous  patron  ;  but  finding  this  employment 
not  altogether  congenial  to  his  feelings,  he  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  divinity.  After  having  completed  his  theological  stu- 
dies and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  the  ministry,  he  was  led 
to  embrace  the  sentiments  of  the  Puritans,  with  some  of 
whom  he  shortly  afterwards  embarked  for  America,  being 
the  5th  of  February,  1631. 

3.  On  his  arrival  he  wfis  invited  to  become  an  assistant  to 
Mr,  Skelton,  minister  of  thq  reliajious  society  in  Salem  ;  but 
some  objections  being  made  by  the  civil  authority,  he  went 
to  Plymouth,  where  he  preaclied  two  or  three  years,  and  was 
held  in  high  estimation  by  governor  Bradford  aijd  the  people. 
But  Mr.  Skelton  becoming  old,  a  second  application  was 
made  to  Mr.  Williams  to  become  his  assistant,  f  Witli  this 
request  he  complied,  although  the  general  court  again  at- 
tempted to  prevent  it ;  and  so  successful  had  he  been  in 
gaining  the  affections  of  the  people  at  Plymouth,  that  many 
of  them  removed  with  him.  But  his  removal  to  Salem  led 
immediately  to  events  of  great  interest  to  himself  and  to  the 
country  in  which  he  was  destined  by  Providence  to  act  so 
conspicuous  a  part.  It  is  stated  by  his  biographers,  that  in 
one  year  he  literally  filled  the  place  with  his  obnoxious  sen- 
timents. His  favorite  topic  was  liberty  of  conscience,  on 
which  he  so  nmch  insisted  as  to  offend  a  few  leading  indi- 
viduals of  the  congregation ;  and  he  farther  maintained, 
which  was  still  more  offensive,  that  civil  magistrates,  as  such, 


Under  whose  direction  and  patronage  did  Roger  Williams  |?«c#i'V« 
kii  edueation  ? — What  led  sir  Edward  Coka  to  educate  him  ' 


mmt^ 


S44       SETi.i.EMENT  OF  RHODE  ISLAND. 

had  no  authority  from  God  to  regulate  or  control  the  affairs 
of  religion.  He  also  insisted  that  the  princes  oi  Europe  had 
no  right  M'hatever  to  dispose  of  the  possessions  of  the  Ameri- 
can Indians. 

4.  The  magistrates,  apprehending  from  his  peculiar  talents 
and  address,  that  his  opinions  would  extend  thehiselves,  made 
several  attempts  to  convince  him  of  his  supposed  errors; 
but,  being  unsuccessful  in  these  attempts,  in  October  1635, 
they  passed  upon  him  the  sentence  of  excommunication  and 
banishment.  Permission,  however,  was  given  him  to  remain 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  colony  till  Spring,  on  condition 
'*  that  he  would  not  go  about  to  draw  others  to  his  opinions." 
But  it  being  reported  to  the  governor  and  assistants,  that  he 
held  meetings  in  his  house  for  the  purpose  of  inculcating 
"  such  points  as  he  had  been  censured  for ;"  and  that  he  had 
already  drawn  about  twenty  persons  to  these  opinions,  intend 
ing  with  them  to  e&tablish  a  plantation  about  Narragansel 
Bay,  "  from  which  the  new  infection  might  easily  spread  into 
their  churches,  the  people  being  much  taken  with  the  appre 
hension  of  his  godliness,"  it  was  resolved  that  he  should  be 
sent  back  to  England  in  a  ship  then  ready  to  depart*  'They 
accordingly  sent  for  him  to  come  to  Boston ;  but  be  made 
some  excuse  for  not  complying  with  their  request,  upOn  which 
they  issued  an  order  to  apprehend  and  convey  hiin  on  board 
the  ship.  Mr.  Williams,  however,  aware  of  their  designs, 
had  been  three  days  gone  before  the  officer  reached  the  house. 

6.  The  next  that  was  heard  of  him  was  on  Sekonk  plain, 
a  few  miles  east  of  Providence.  Here  he  obtained  a  grant 
of  land  from  the  chief  sachem  at  Mount  Pope,  now  in  Bris- 
tol, R.  I.  but  being  informed  by  a  letter  and  messenger  from 
Plymouth,  that  this  place  was  within  their  patent,  it  was  re- 
solved to  cross  the  Pawtuckct  river  and  take  up  their  abode 
more  immediately  with  the  savages.  ^  It  is  said,  that  when 
Mr.  Williams  and  his  friend  OIney,  and  Thomas  Angel,  a 
hired  servant;  approached  the  opposite  shore  in  their  canoe, 
they  were  met  b}  the  savages  and  saluted  by  the  Indian 
word,  that  signifies,  what  cheer  ?  They  then  pur£..ed  their 
course  till  they  came  to  a  pleasant  spring  upon  the  side  cf  a 
hill,  which  is  the  northerly  part  of  what  is  now  the  large  and 


Who- accompanied  Roger  Williams  when  I) o  wont  to  Providenoe 
tfUr  being  banished  from  M awachusotts  ? 


SETTLEMENT  OF  RHODE  ISLAND.       ^46 

flourishing  town  of  Krovidence.  In  this  place  they  resolred 
to  settle,  and  from  a  sense  of  the  goodness  of  God  to  them, 
to  give  it  the  name  by  which  it  has  ever  since  been  called. 
The  spring  still  remains,  and  is  nearly  opposite  St.  John's 
Church. 

6.  ifere  ^le  found  that  favor  among  the  savages  which 
Christians  had  denied  him.  Many  of  his  friends  and  adhe- 
rents soon  repaired  to  his  new  habitation.  He  had  the  hap* 
piness  to  gain  the  friendship  of  two  powerful  Narraganset 
princes,  of  whom  he  made  a  formal  purchase  of  a  territory 
sufficient  for  himself  and  his  friends.  He  soon  acquired  a 
sufficient  knowledge  of  the  Indian  language  to  transact  the 
affairs  of  trade  and  other  necessary  negotiation,  and  perhaps 
no  man  ever  had  more  influence  over  the  savage  tribes  than 
Roger  WilliamSir  This  influence  enabled  him  to  sooth  the 
irritable  Indian '  chiefs,  and  bn  ak  up  their  confederacies 
against  the  English  ;  and  the  first  act  of  this  kind  was  per- 
formed in  favor  of  the  colony  from  which  he  had  been  ba- 
nished. It  is  not  necessary  in  most  cases  for  the  historian 
to  sit  in  judgment  upon  the  conflicting  claims  to  divine  au- 
thority, between  different  religionists,  for  the  support  of  their 
respective  peculiarities,  whether  in  faith  or  worship ;  but  in 
the  present  case  it  is  too  obvious  to  escape  observation,  that 
in  practice  the  religion  of  Mr.  Williams  was  more  conformar 
ble  to  le  precepts  of  Jesus  Christ  than  that  of  his  perse- 
cutors. 

7.  But  if,  from  a  view  of  these  unhappy  divisions,  it  should 
be  supposed  Mr.  Williams  exercised  mose  of  the  Christian 
temper  than  his  enemies,  it  should  always  be  remembered, 
that  it  is  nearly  a  matter  of  course,  such  is  the  imperfection 
of  human  nature,  for  dissenters  from  any  established  religion, 
to  fall  into  unnecessary  peculiarities,  and  into  a  seeming  dis- 
position to  irritate  the  feelings  Qf  the  majority  when  no 
conscientious  scruple  requires  it.*  It  is  possible  that  may 
have  been  the  case  with  Mr.  Williams,  and  the  other  dissent- 
ers from  the  religion  that  prevailed  in  New  England  at 
that  time.  As  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Williams  is  si|pposed  to 
be  by  his  friends,  and  as  correct  as  were  his  opinions  on  re- 
ligious liberty — and  it  cannot  be  pretended  that  they  were 
less  correct  than  the  opinions  of  any  other  man  living  at  that 


By  vhnm,  and  for  What  rea««n,  did  Pvovidlehoe  reeeive  iita  name  f 
23 


246       SETTLEMENT  OF  RHODE  ISLAND. 

time — his  greatest  admirers  will  acknowledge  him  no  more 
than  human.  Nor  is  it  necessary,  as  already  intimated,  to 
suppose  that  all  thn  censure  is  just  which  was  cast  upon  the 
persons,  who,  in  this  country,  at  the  time  under  considera- 
tion, exercised  a  persecuting  spirit ;  for,  then,  as  has  been 
observed,  religious  liberty  was  but  imperfectly  understood — 
and  had  they  lived  in  this  enlightened  age  of  the  world,  not 
unlikely  they  would  abhor  such  a  spirit  as  much  as  ourselves. 

8.  Shortly  subsequent  to  the  banishment  of  Roger  Will- 
iams, it  was  found  that  Massachusetts  was  much  convulsed 
by  religious  discords,  which  caused  a  synod  to  be  holden  at 
l^ewton,  now  Cambridge,  which  adjudged  sundry  religious 
opinions  to  be  heretical,  and  passed  sentence  of  banishment 
upon  such  as  held  the  most  obnoxious  of  them.  These  dis- 
turbances induced  John  Clark,  an  eminent  physician,  Will- 
iam Coddington,  and  several  others  of  their  friends,  in  the 
year  1638,  to  resolve  on  a  removal  out  of  the  jurisdiction  of 
that  state  ;  and  by  the  advice  of  Roger  Williams  they  were 
induced  to  settle  at  Aquidneck,  now  called  Rhode  Island. 
On  the  7th  of  March,  1638,  the  men  of  this  party,  to  the 
number  of  eirrlueen,  united  themselves  into  a  body  politic, 
and  chose  William  Coddington  their  judge  or  chief  magis- 
trate. At  the  commencement  of  this  settlement  on  Rhode 
Island,  Dr.  Clark  became  the  minister  of  a  society  of  Bap- 
tists then  formed  ;  and  he  continued  to  act  in  this  character 
till  his  death,  which  happened  in  1676,  in  the  66th  year  of 
his  age.  The  particulars  of  his  imprisonment  at  Boston,  of 
his  being  sentenced  to  pay  a  fine  of  twenty  pounds  or  be 
publicly  whipped,  for  preaching  at  Lynn  where  he  had  occa- 
sion to  go  on  business,  and  of  the  important  part  which  he 
took  both  at  home  and  in  England  in  the  concerns  of  his  in- 
fant colony,  ari^' minutely  detailed  in  the  biographical  notices 
of  his  life.         ' 

9.  The  hardships  and  privations  endured  by  the  first  set- 
tiers  of  the  other  New  England  colonies,  have  drawn  forth 
the  warmest  sympathies  of  the  Christian  and  philanthropist 
When  we  see  persons,  solely  for  religious  considerations, 
willing  to  forsake  the  scenes  and  companions  of  their  youth, 
to  cross  the  wide  ocean  amidst  perils  and  sufferings,  and  then 
to  settle  for  life  in  a  region  surrounded  by  savages  and  wild 
beasts  of  the  most  ferocious  kind,  in  a  region  almost  destitute 
of  the  elegancies  and  delights  of  civilized  life,  we  cannot 


SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA.       247 

but  admire  their  fortitude,  we  cannot  but  admire  the  uncon- 
querable tendency  in  human  nature  to  yield  itself  to  the  im- 
pulses of  religious  faith,  regardless  of  consequences.  But  in 
the  settlement  of  Rhode  Island  the  circumstances  were  ma- 
tcriallv  different.  Here,  the  first  settlers  did  not  cnorajre 
in  a  voluntary  enterprise.  They  were  actually  compelled  by 
their  Christian  brethren  to  abandon  their  own  houses,  to 
traverse  a  wilderness  through  deep  snows,  and  then  to  dwell 
with  savacres  without  comfortable  habitations  and  food. 


SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 

1.  William  Penn,  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania,  was  the 
only  son  of  admiral  Penn  of  the  English  navy,  and  was  born 
in  the  year  1644.  The  mother  of  William  Penn  was  as  emi- 
nent for  all  those  amiable  virtues  which  peculiarly  adorn  the 
female  character,  as  his  father  was  for  whatever  contributed 
to  make  a  brave  and  high  minded  officer.  To  her  judicious 
instruction  and  truly  Christian  example,  according  to  his 
own  statement,  he  was  chiefly  indebted,  under  the  blessing 
of  God,  for  that  inflexible  justice  and  that  ardent  piety,  for 
which  he  was,  through  life,  so  much  characterized.  When 
only  a  child  he  discovered  these  noble  qualities,  in  a  remarka- 
ble degree.  He  entered  the  University  at  Oxiord  before  he 
was  fifteen  years  of  age,  where  he  soon  became  as  much  dis- 
tinguished for  superior  scholarship  as  for  pleasing  manners 
and  a  natui'ally  amiabke  disposition. 

2.  At  an  early  period  in  his  college  life,  hearing  that  a 
strange  sort  of  a  preacher,  then  by  way  of  ridicule  called  a 
Quaker,  was  about  to  hold  a  meeting  at  Oxford,  he  with 
other  students  determined  to  go  and  heai  him.  It  might 
have  been  supposed,  that  the  broad-brimmed  hat  and  the 
(Irab-colorcd  coat  of  the  most  humble  kind,  with  young  men 
accustomed  to  see  religious  teachers  clad  in  the  expensive 
robes  of  the  established  cluirch,  would  have  been  a  subject 
of  ridicule  ;  but  the  simplicity  of  his  manner,  together  with 
the  pungent  truths  delivered  by  the  Quaker  jDreacher,  pro- 
duced on  the  mind  of  Penn  and  of  a  few  others  an  impres- 


At  what  -age  did  William  Penn  enter  college  ? — What  first  inclined 
him  to  the  Quakers  ? 


2*       SETTLEMEIVT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 


;>;.)■ 


sion  of  the  deepest  seriousness.  Of  this  number  was  Robert, 
afterward  lord  Spencer,  and  the  celebrated  John  Lock.  Be- 
tween the  latter  and  William  Penn,  this  circumstance  laid 
the  foundation  of  a  friendship,  that  was  as  lasting  as  life ;  and 
was  several  times  exercised  in  a  manner  which  sufficient!}/ 
proved  the  sincerity  and  the  ardor  of  their  lovfe. 

3.  These  three  young  men,  by  frequently  conversing  with 
each  other,  on  the  subject  of  the  duaker^s  discourse,  had  their 
feelings  wrought  to  such  a  height,  that  they  began  to  think  it  a 
matter  of  conscience  to  hold  meetings  by  themselves,  instead 
of  attending  church.     They  were,  however,  soon  called  to  an 
account,  by  the  college  authority,  for  this  neglect  of  duty ; 
and  not  giving  the  necessary  satisfaction,  they  were  severely 
fined.     But  this,  instead  of  destroying  the  influence  of  their 
Quaker  notions  on  religion,  only  gave  them  new  life  and 
vigor.     As  the  government  of  the  college  had  attempted  to 
compel  them  into  conformity  to  the  established  church,  they 
were  led,  where  they  conceived  they  had  the  power,  to  ex- 
ercise compulsory  measures  to  induce  others  to  adopt  their 
own  notions.     One  day,  on  meeting  some  of  their  icllow  stu- 
dents, they  remonstrated  with  them  for  their  extravagance  of 
dress ;  but,  being  ridiculed  for  their  supposed  enthusiasm, 
they  fell  upon  them  outright,  and  by  main  force  rent  their 
clothes  from  theil"  shoulders.     For  this  imprudent  act>  which 
Penn  ever  afterwards  condemned  as  proceeding  from  a  zeal 
without  knov'ledge,  he  was  arraigned  before  the  professors 
and  trustees  of  college,  and  formally  expelled. 

4.  The  e^t  pulsion  of  Penn  from*  college,  was  the  com- 
mencement of  those  interesting  events  which  signalized  his 
life.  Apprehending  what  would  be  the  effect  of  his  expul- 
sion upon  his  parents,  he  delayed  as  long  as  possible  givmg 
them  the  painful  intelligence  ;  and  he  declined  writing  alto- 
gether, preferring  to  be  the  bearer  of  it  himself.  At  length, 
he  accordingly  sat  out  for  Penn's  Dale,  the  admiral's  resi- 
dence, where  his  sudden  appearance  struck  them  with  sur- 
prise. "  Hallo,  William  !"  cried  his  father  with  joy,  giving 
iiim  his  hand ;  '*  why,  what,  my  son  !  returned  to  port  al- 
ready!  I  hope  you  have  met  with  no  foul  weather!"  Hisj 
mother,  roused  by  the  sudden  sound  of  William's  name, 
mrned  round  with  her  face  flushed  with  joy,  and  running  to  I 


h 
hi 


For  what  waa  William  Penn  expelled  from  college  ? 


SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA.       849 


embrace  him,  exclaimed — "  Heigh,  my  dear  William  !  what 
has  brought  you  home  so  soon  ?"  His  father  and  jnother 
both  observing  a  sudden  paleness  on  his  cheeks,  anxiously 
inquired  lohat  was  the  matter  ? 

5.  Young  Penr,  with  his  characteristic  firmness,  replied — 
"  /  am  expdlf^d  from  the  University  /"  Pale  as  a  blighted 
lily,  poor  Mrs.  Penn  stood  like  a  speochloss  statue ;  whilo 
the  pdmiral,  clasping  his  hands  and  rolliii^j  his  eyes  as  if  he 
had  suddenly  beheld  half  of  his  fleet  blown  up  by  the  Dutch, 
exclaimed — *'  Expelled  from  the  University  !"  "  Yes,  sir," 
replied  William,  "  they  have  expelled  me." — "  Expelled  you, 
do  you  still  say,  child,"  continued  the  agitated  admiral — "  a 
child  of  mine  expelled  from  an  English  University  !  why  ! 
what  (uttering  a  passionate  exclamation)  could  have  been 
the  cause  V — *'  Why,  sir,"  answered  William,  *'  it  was  be- 
cause I  tore  their  dresses  from  off  the  shoulders  of  some  of 
the  students." — Here  the  admiral,  with  cheeks  swollen  of 
anger,  and  a  voice  shrill  as  a  boatswain's  whistle,  exclaimed 
— '*  You  tore  the  dresses  from  off  the  shoulders  of  some  of 
the  students  !  why" — uttering  an  oath — ♦*  what  had  you  to 
do  with  their  dresses  V — "  Why,"  answered  William,  "  their 
dresses  were  so  phantastical  and  unbecoming  the  dignity  of 
Englishmen  and  the  sobriety  of  Christians,  that  I  felt  it  a  duty 
to  my  country  and  conscience  to  bear  my  testimony  against 
them.  And  moreover,  I  was  assisted  in  it  by  Robert  Spen- 
cer and  John  Lock,  and  other  discreet  youths  of  the  college." 

6.  To  this  introduction  succeeded  a  long  dialogue  between 
the  admiral  and  his  son  on  his  expulsion  from  college,  and 
the  causes  which  led  t6  it.  The  latter  expatiated  much  on 
liberty  of  conscience  and .  his  new  lights  in  religion,  while 
the  former  feelingly,  and  sometimes  with  anger,  remonstrated 
against  his  conduct ;  but  all  without  producing  any  agree- 
ment of  Qpinion  or  external  reconciliation.  At  length  the 
admiral  told  him  he  might  have  till  the  next  morning  to  con- 
sider of  it,  whether  to  return  to  the  university  and  make  such 
concessions  as  would  secure  his  re-admission,  or  be  banished 
from  his  father's  house.  Upon  this,  he  retired  to  a  room  with 
his  mother,  whom  he  had  little  difficulty  in  reconciling  to 
himself;  and,  in  case  he  should  be  driven  from  the  house  of 
his  father,  she  advised  him  to  go  immediately  into  Bucking 
hamshire,  and  live  with  her  mother,  until  his  father's  ange 
should  be  appeased.     fiQj. 


til 


r 


impwiwiJ 


250       SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 

7.  On  the  next  day,  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  which  was 
passed  in  silence,  the  admiral  took  his  son  into  the  study  and 
inquired  what  was  his  determination.  With  all  the  meekness 
yet  firmness  of  an  honest  Quaker,  William  replied,  that  he  had 
"  turned  hi-i  tfwifffht.'i  to  the  light  idthin  ;  and  ^  that  while  ho 
fek,  wiiii  exceeding  affection,  how  much  he  owed  his  earthly 
father,  he  owed  still  more  to  his  heavenly,  and  therefore  could 
r.cver  offend  him,  by  sinning  against  the  light,  and  endanger 
ing  his  own  soul," — '*  Well,  then,  you  will  not  go  back  to 
ihe  ESTABLISHED  cHi/RCH  !"  replied  the  admiral,  angrily. — 
*'  While  my  convictions  remain,  father,  I  can  never  leave  the 
Qaakers."  ''  Well,  then,  sir,"  rejoined  the  admiral,  almost 
choked  with  passion,  "  you  must  leave  ;"  and  ordered  him 
instantly  to  quit  the  house.  Deeming  it  fruitless  to  reply  or 
••emonstrate,  William  took  up  his  hat  and  went  out  of  the 
bouse,  without  uttering  a  word. 

8.  \/illiam,  according  to  the  arrangement  made  by  his 
mother  above  named,  directed  his  course  to  Buckingham- 
shire. His  grandmother,  being  apprised  of  the  cruel  treat 
ment  he  had  received,  was  the  more  lavish  in  her  kind  at- 
tentions to  him.  But  he  was  not  long  to  remain  in  the  ele- 
gant mansion  of  this  esteemed  relative.  The  adm.iral,  as 
predicted  by  his  excellent  wife,  50on  relented,  and  sent  for 
William  to  return  home.  A  more  gentle  policy  was  to  be 
pursued — he  was  to  be  sent  to  Paris,  under  pretence  of 
learning  the  French  language  ;  but  in  reality,  to  be  kepi  out 
of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  despised  duakers.  He  was 
/baded  with  letters  of  introduction  to  ilie  nobility  of  that 
fashionable  metropolis,  and  every  means  was  attempted  to 
occupy  his  attention  with  other  objects,  so  that  no  time 
would  be  left  for  religious  speculations.  The  result  far  ex- 
ceeded the  most  sanguine  expectation ;  for,  on  his  return 
from  Paris,  William  was  the  admiration  of  his  friends,  having 
obtained  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  French  language,  and 
acquired  all  that  elegance  and  fascination  of  manners  hx 
which  that  people  iare  so  justly  celebrated. 

9.  The  admiral,  delighted  with  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  William's  appearance,  introduced  him  at  court ;  car- 
ried him  about  as  in  triumph  among  his  illustrious  friends, 


What  severe  measures  did  his  father  take  with  him  on  his  expul* 
sioD? 


mr 


lA. 

r,  which  was 
le  study  and 
le  meekness 
,  that  he  had 
rat  while  he 
i  his  earthly 
refore  coidd 
d  endanger 
t  go  back  to 
I,  angrily.— 
^er  leave  the 
niral,  almost 
)rdered  him 
s  to  reply  or 
it  cut  of  the 

nade  by  liia 
tuckingham- 
I  cruel  treat 
her  kind  at- 
n  in  the  de- 
ad mi  r  si,  as 
md  sent  for 
iy  was  to  be 
pretence  of 
be  kepi  out 
s.     He  was 
►ility  of  that 
ittempted  to 
lat  no  time 
esult  far  ex- 
his  return 
ends,  having 
nguage,  and 
manners  for 

It  had  taken 
t  court ;  car- 
ous  friends, 

on  his  expul* 


SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA        251 

and  for  fear  he  should  relapse  into  his  old  gloomy  loays^  as 
he  termed  them,  he  resolved  to  send  him  over  at  once  to 
Ireland,  to  take  the  management  of  an  estate  that  had  lately 
fallen  to  him  in  tjie  neighborhood  of  Dublin.  And  to  rnsure 
him  a  fuM  round  of  dissipation,  his  pockets  v/ere  filled  with 
letters  from  the  admiral's  court  friends,  introducing  him  ip 
tbe  most  flattering  terms,  to  the  lord  lieutenant,  and  other 
distinguished  characters  of  that  large  city.  On  his  arrival, 
he  applied  Kimseif  very  diligently  to  the  settlement  of  his 
estate  ;  visiting  and  spending  his  intervals  of  leisure  in  the 
society  of  the  lord  lieutenant  and  his  friends,  who  paid  un- 
common attention  to  him  as  an  amiable  young  man,  and  the 
only  son  and  heir  of  sir  William  Penn,  hiriU  admiral  of  the 
British  navy.  While  perusing  a  Dublin  paper  one  evening, 
his  attention  was  caught  by  a  Notice,  that.  "  one  of  (he  pco- 
pic  called  Quakers  was  to  preach  in  the  Market  House,  the 
next  clai/J*^  Although  William  had,  for  some  time,  conform- 
ed to  the  established  church,  yet  he  had  never  lost  his  par- 
tiality for  the  Quakers ;  and  therefore  immediately  resolved 
to  go  to  meeting. 

10.  On  the  rising  of  the  preacher  to  speak,  whom  should 
his  eyes  behold,  but  the  smooth  and  placid  countenance  of 
his  oM  friend  Thomas  Loe,  whose  preaching  at  Oxford  pro- 
duced such  an  effect  on  his  mind  1  nor  was  friend  Loe  lesj 
surprised  to  discover  among  his  auditors  the  university  stu** 
dent,  who  two  years  before  professed  to  be  a  proselyte  to  his 
preaching.  This  circumstance,  connected  with  an  interview 
at  the  close  of  the  meeting,  revived  some  of  the  most  inter- 
estinor  recollections,  in  cu  h  of  their  minds — a  free  inter- 
change  of  which  c?.usT?d  young  Penn  again  U  resolve  on 
conformity  to  the  doctt  .nss  of  the  Quakers.  His  intercourse 
with  the  Irish  nobility  accordingly  ceased,  which,  together 
with  the  cause  of  it,  was  immediately  communicated  to  hia 
father.  The  admiral  was  more  enraged,  if  possible,  than 
before ;  and  wrote  at  once,  for  William  to  return  without 
delay.  His  spirits  were  at  first,  as  mi^'ht  have  been  expcciod, 
much  depressed  by  this  letter ;  but  the  depression  was  only 
momentary.  Religion  soon  administered  her  cordial.  On 
his  return  home,  he  firmly  maintained  his  full  persuasion  of 


Fr>r  M'hat  did  his  father  send  him  to  Paris  and  afterwards  to  Iro* 
kiid  ?— What  wan  the  occasion  of  his  being  recalled  from  Ireland  ? 


im       SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 


the  Quaker  doctrines,  and  his  determination  to  follow  che  dic- 
tates of  bis  own  conscience,  which  caused  his  father  a  second 
time  to  banish  him  from  his  house. 

IL  At  this  time,  young  Perm  was  about  eighteen  years 
of  age.  Oil  leaving  Penn's  Dale,  he  proceeded  to  London 
forthwith.  Jiis  first  inquiry,  on  reaching  it,  was  where  he 
might  find  some  of  tho  " people  called  Quakers"  He  was 
directed  to  the  house  of  one  George  Whitehead,  an  eminent 
minister  of  that  denomination  of  christians.  It' so  happened 
there  was  a  meeting  that  day  at  Whitehead's  house.  This 
was  a  most  desirable  event  to  Penn,  who  went  in,  took  his 
seat  with  them,  and,  after  relating  his  trials,  of  which,  how- 
ever, they  had  before  heard,  was  formally  acknowledged  by 
them  as  a  member  of  their  Society.  He  did  not  become  a 
preacher  with  them  for  six  years  from  this  time ;  but  he  im- 
mediately' commenced  the  vindication  of  their  sentiments 
by  writing,  and  for  one  of  the  first  of  his  productions  was 
committed  to  prison.  Nor  was  this  the  only  instance  of  the 
like  persecution.  Indeed,  he  became  so  accustomed  to  it, 
that  on  one  occasion  of  his  being  condemned  to  the  tower, 
when  a  file  of  soldiers  was  ordered  to  guard  him  thither, 
Penn  sarcastically  said  to  the  Judge — "  Thee  need  not  send 
thy  soldiers — send  thy  hoy,  I  know  the  way.'''' 

12.  When  William  Penn  was  in  prison  the  first  time,  the 
admiral  returned  from  sea  in  consequence  of  declining  health. 
With  a  broken  constitution,  his  spirits  had  undergone  a  cor- 
responding change.  Learning  that  his  son  was  in  confine- 
ment, on  the  next  day  after  his  arrival,  he  employed  a  friend 
to  effect  his  release.  William,  apprehending  the  cause  of  this 
sudden  alteration  in  his  father's  feelings,  hasteneu  home 
without  delay.  On  their  first  meeting,  a  perfect  reconcilia- 
tion to  his  conduct  was  declared  by  the  father,  who  entreated 
that  he  would  no  more  leave  him.  Although  young  Penn 
had  made  other  engagements  for  spending  his  time,  he  still 
deemed  it  a  duty  and  a  dictate  of  his  religion,  to  administer 
as  far  as  in  his  power  to  a  sick  parent.  These  services  of 
filial  duty,  however,  were  not  long  needed  ;  for  in  the  year 
1670,  his  father  died,  aged  only  forty-nine.  By  this  event, 
William  Penn  became  owner  of  a  very  handsome  estate,  sup- 


What  then  became  of  William  Ponn  ' — Under  what  circumHtanceii 
*lid  hi«  father  become  reconciled  to  him  ? 


SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA.       26<> 


posed  to  be  worth  at  that  time  1,500/.  sterling  per  anaum, 
equal  to  15,000  dollars  now,  besides  a  demand  on  the  crown, 
for  loans  made  by  his  father,  to  the  amount  of  16,000/.  ster- 
ling, equal,  as  money  now  goes,  to  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars. 

13.  In  consequence  of  some  difficulty  in  recovering  the 
debt  due  from  the  crown,  and  a  desire  to  provide  a  place 
where  his  Quaker  brethren  might  be  free  irom  religious  per- 
secution, he  proposed  to  receive  in  payment  from  the  British 
government  for  the  debt  due  to  him,  that  tract  of  land  in  North 
America,  lying  west  of  the  Delaware  river  and  north  of  Ma- 
ryland, now  called  Pennsylvania.  His  proposition  was  ac- 
cepted, and  king  Charles  II.  with  little  delay  drew  up  and 
presented  Penn  with  a  deed,  saying  in  his  jocose  manner — 
"  Well,  friend  William,  you'll  see  in  this  paper  that  I  have 
done  something  handsome  for  you.  Yes,  man^  I  have  given 
you  there  a  territory  in  North  America,  as  large  as  my  own 
island  of  Great  Britain.  And  knowing  what  a  fighting  family 
you  sprung  from,  I  made  you  governor  and  captain  general 
o^  "^^  its  coasts,  and  seas,  and  bays,  and  rivers,  and  moun- 
ts and  forests,  and  population.  And  now  in  return  for 
all  this,  I  have  but  a  few  conditions  to  make  with  thee." 

14.  William  Penn  begged  the  king  would  let  him  know 
what  they  were. — "  Why,  in  the  first  place,"  replied  Charles, 
"  you  are  to  give  me  a  fifth  of  all  the  gold  and  silver  you  may 
find  there.  Brt  as  you  Quakers  care  but  little  about  the 
precious  metals,  I  don't  count  on  much  from  that  quarter. 
In  the  second  place,  friend  William,  you  are  to  be  sure  not 
to  make  war  on  the  nations  without  my  consent.  But  in 
case  of  a  war  you  are  always  to  remember  that  you  are  an 
Englishman,  and  therefore  must  never  use  the  scalping-hnife. 
In  the  third  place,  if  any  persons  of  my  religion,  the  honest 
Episcopalians,  would  wish  to  come  and  settle  in  your  Qua- 
ker province,  you  shall  receive  them  kindly  ;  and  if  tli.ey 
should  at  any  time  invite  a  preacher  of  their  own,  he  shall 
be  permitted  to  come  among  you.  And  moreover,  if  they 
should  like  to  build  what  we  call  a  church,  (but  you  a  stcepU- 
house,)  you  will  not  forbid  it."  William  Penn  smiled  and 
said  that   Friend  Charles,  for  so  he  often  called  the  king, 


umstancen 


What  property  did  the  father  of  William  Penn  leave  him  ' — How 
did  he  obtain  a  title  to  Pennsylvania  ^ 


mumm' 


254         SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 

"  should  certainly  be  gratified  in  all  these  things  ;  for,"  add* 
cd  he,  "  I,  who  have  drank  so  deeply  of  the  bitter  watevs  of 
persecution  myself,  will  never,  I  hope,  consent  to  persecute 
others  on  the  score  of  religion." 


15.  Havinir  obtained  his  charter  under  the 


great 


seal  of 


England,  Penn  lost  no  time  in  giving  public  information  of 
the  territory  he  had  purchased  in  North  America,  and  of  the 
livorable  terms  on  which  he  would  dispose  of  jt.  This  in- 
formation was  followed  by  consequences  beyond  his  most 
sanguine  expectations.  The  general  confidence  inspired  by 
it  is  without  a  parallel  in  the  annals  of  a  private  man.  Trad- 
ing companies  immediately  made  large  purchases;  and 
crowds  of  individuals  from  all  parts  of  the  empire  seemed 
desirous  of  going  to  the  land  of  William  Penn.  Nor  were 
they  the  Quakers  alone  who  prepared  themselves  to  follow 
him  to  the  western  world.  Numbers  of  other  denominations, 
confiding  in  that  good  name  which  all  seemed  to  delight  in 
giving  him,  offered  themselves  to  partake  of  the  good  or  ill 
fortune  that  awaited  them  beyond .  the  seas.  Having  sent 
off  three  ships  laden  with  adventurers,  and  a  fourth,  in  which 
he  himself  was  to  embark,  being  nearly  ready  for  sea,  he 
hastened  up  to  London  to  take  leave  of  the  king  (Charles 
the  Second)  who,  though  by  no  means  the  man  after  his  own 
heart,  had  yet  shown  great  good  will  towards  him,  and  even  a 
particular  friendship.  Having  performed  this  duty  of  respect 
to  his  king,  he  spent  a  day  with  his  family  and  then  repaired 
to  his  ship. 

16.  After  a  voyage  of  six  weeks,  he  reached  the  capes  of 
Delaware  bay,  which  he  entered  with  feelings  of  the  most 
ardent  gratitude  to  God  for  his  continued  goodness.  His 
course  was  thence  directed  up  the  bay,  till  it  narrowed  into  a 
noble  river  about  two  miles  wide.  Here  was  a  small  town, 
belonging  to  a  colony  of  Swedes  and  Dutch,  since  called 
Newcastle,  with  the  inhabitants  of  which  Penn  remained  a 
short  time,  giving  them  assurance  of  his  protection ;  and 
then  proceeded  up  the  river  about  forty  miles,  till  a  little  past 
the  mouth  of  the. Schuylkill,  where  he  gave  orders  to  cast  an- 
chor. A  site  combining  so  much  natural  grandeur  and  con- 
venience, could  hardly  escape  the  discerning  eye  of  Penn. 
Upon  the  bank  of  the  river  at  this  place,  were  two  Indian 


When  did  William  Venn  proceed  thither  himself  i 


H 


SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA.      865 

towns ;  and  soon  as  the  ship  was  anchored,  the  boat  with  an 
interpreter  was  sent  on  shore,  to  inform  the  Indians  that  the 
sachem  or  chief  of  the  whites  had  arrived,  and  wished  to 
have  a  ^^  grand  ^alk  with  his  Red  brothers  the  next  day,,  tohen 
the  sun  loas  at  his  half  way  house  in  the  s%." 

17.  Soon  as  the  natives  saw  the  boat  put  off  from  the  ship, 
they  came  down  from  both  villages,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, to  me^t  them  ;  and  althoujjh,  from  a  total  ignorance  of 
their  language,  there  was  no  conversation  between  them  ex- 
cept by  signs  and  a  few  words  through  their  interpreter,  yet 
the  interview  was  highly  interesting,  each  party  marking  the 
color,  features,  and  dress  of  the  other  with  all  the  pleasures 
of  surprise.  As  Penn  in  the  ships  that  preceded  him  had 
appointed  commissioners,  to  treat  with  the  Indians  for 
the  purchase  of  a  part  of  their  lands,  and  for  their  joint 
possession  of  the  remainder,  but  little  remained,  but  to 
conclude  the  settlement,  and  solemnly  to  pledge  his  faith,  and 
to  ratify  and  confirm  the  treaty  in  sight  both  of  the  Indiana 
and  planters. — On  the  return  of  the  boat,  the  interpreter  re- 
ported to  William  Penn,  that  the  chiefs  had  given  him  to 
understand,  they  had  been  informed  by  the  Raritons,  this 
sachem  of  the  whites  was  a  good  man,  and  that  his  white 
children  which  he  had  sent  into  their  country  in  the  big  car 
noes,  had  never  done  them  any  harm.  The  chief's  also 
agreed  to  meet  Pena  at  the  time  proposed,  and  promised  to 
give  information  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, that  there  might  be  a  good  many  at  the  talk. 

18.  Accordingly,  on  the  day  following,  at  the  hour  ap- 
pointed, an  innumerable  multitude  of  Indians  assembled  in 
that  neighborbood ;  and  were  seen,  with  their  dark  visages 
and  brandished  arms,  moving,  in  vast  swarms,  in  the  depth 
of  the  woods  which  then  overshaded  the  whole  of  that  now 
cultivated  region.  On  the  other  hand,  William  Penn,  with 
a  moderate  attendance  of  friends,  advanced  to  meet  them. 
He  came  of  course  unarmed — in  his  usual  plain  dress — with- 
out banners,  or  mace,  or  guard,  or  carriages ;  and  only  dis- 
tinguished from  his  companions  by  wearing  a  blue  sash  of 
silk  net- work,  (which,  it  seems,  is  still  preserved  by  Mr. 
Kelt  of  Seething-hall,  near  Norwich,)  and  by  having  in  his 
hand  a  roll  of  parchment,  on  which  was  engrossed  the  con- 
firmation of  the  treaty  of  purchase  and  amity.  As  soon  as  he 
drew  near  the  spot  where  the  sachems  were  assembled,  the 


256        SETTLEMENT  OF  PENNSYLVANIA. 

whole  multitude  of  Indians  threw  down  their  weapons,  and 
seated  themselves  on  the  ground  in  groups,  each  under  his 
own  chieftain  ;  and  the  presiding  chief  intimated  to  William 
Penn,  that  the  nations  were  ready  to  hear  him., 

19.  Having  been  called  upon,  he  began. — "  The  Gi-eat 
Spirit,"  he  said,  "  who  made  him  ?nd  them,  who  ruled  the 
heaven  and  the  earth,  and  who  knew  the  innermost  thoughts 
of  man,  knew  that  he  and  his  friends  had  a  hearty  desire  to 
live  in  peace  and  friendship  with  them,  and  to  serve  them  to 
the  utmost  of  their  power.  It  was  not  their  custom  to  use 
hostile  weapons  against  their  fellow-creatures,  for  which  rea- 
son they  had  come  unarmed.  Their  object  was  not  to  do 
injury  and  thus  provoke  the  Great  Spirit,  but  to  do  good. 
They  were  then  met  on  the  broad  pathway  of  good  faith  anri 
good  will,  so  that  no  advantage  was  to  be  taken  on  either 
side,  but  all  was  to  be  openness,  brother^^ood,  and  love." 
He  then  unrolled  the  parchment,  and  by  means  of  the  same 
interpreter,  conveyed  to  them,  article  by  article,  the  condi- 
tions of  the  purchase,  and  the  words  of  the  compact  then 
made  for  their  eternal  union.  Among  other  things,  they 
were  not  to  be  molested  in  their  lawful  pursuits  even  in  the 
territory  they  had  alienated,  for  it  was  to  be  common  to  them 
and  the  English.  They  were  to  have  the  liberty  to  do  all 
things  therein  relating  to  the  improvement  of  their  grounds, 
and  the  providing  of  sustenance  for  their  families,  which  the 
English  had.  If  any  disputes  should  arise  between  the  two, 
they  should  be  settled  by  twelve  persons,  half  of  whom 
should  be  English,  and  half  Indians. 

20.  He  then  paid  them  for  the  land,  and  made  them 
many  presents  besides  from  the  merchandise  which  had  been 
spread  before  them.  Having  done  this,  he  laid  the  loll  of 
parchment  on  the  ground,  observing  again,  that  the  ground 
should  be  common  to  both  people.  He  then  added,  that  he 
would  not  do  as  the  Marylanders  did,  that  is,  call  them  chil- 
dren or  brothers  only ;  for  often  parents  were  apt  to  whip 
their  children  too  severely,  and  brotheis  would  sometimes 
differ ;  neither  would  he  compare  the  friendship  between  him 
and  them  to  a  chain,  fo~  the  rain  might  sometimes  rust  it,  or 
a  tree  might  fall  and  break  it ;  but  he  should  consider  them 
as  the  same  flesh  and  blood  with  the  Christians,  and  the  same 
as  if  one  man's  body  were  to  be  divided  into  two  parts. 
He  then  took  up  the  parchment,  and  presented  it  to  the 


:a. 


LIBERTY. 


257 


ipons,  and 
under  his 
;o  William 

rhe  Gi-eat 

ruled  the 

t  thoughts 

J  desire  to 

e  them  to 

om  to  use 

vhich  rea- 

not  to  do 

I  do  good. 

faith  anrl 

on  either 

nd  love." 

'  the  sairie 

the  condi- 

ipact  then 

ings,  they 

ren  in  the 

)n  to  them 

r  to  do  all 

r  grounds, 

which  the 

n  the  two, 

of  whom 

ade  them 
had  been 
he  loll  of 
le  ground 
d,  that  he 
hem  chil- 

to  whip 
ometimes 
i,veen  him 
rust  it,  or 
ider  them 

the  same 
wo  parts. 

it  to  the 


x 


sachem  who  wore  the  horn  in  the  chaplet,  and  desired  him 
and  the  other  sachems  to  preserve  it  carefully  for  three  gene- 
rations, that  their  chiMren  might  know  what  had  passed  b-  - 
tween  them,  just'  as  if  he  himself  had  remained  with  them  to 
repeat  it.     . 

21.  The  Indians,  in  return,  made  long  and  stately  ha- 
rangues— of  which,  however,  no  more  seems  to  have  been  re- 
membered, 'but  that  *'  they  pledged  themselves  to  live  in  love 
with  William  Penn  as  long  as  the  sun  and  moon  should  en- 
dure." Having  in  his  own  honest  and  peaceable  way  ob- 
tained of  the  poor  natives  a  title  to  that  fine  province  which 
had  so  long  dwelt  on  his  mind,  he  then  with  great  joy  and 
thankfulness  of  heart,  set  about  having  it  surveyed.  The 
city  of  Philadelphia,  according  to  its  present  plan,  was  im- 
mediately laid  out ;  and  so  ardent  was  the  passion  for  build- 
ing, that  late  as  the  season  was  when  he  arrived,  more  than 
fifty  houses  of  different  descriptions  were  built  before  winter 
— a  city  rising  like  magic  out  of  the  woods,  promising,  what 
has  actually  happened,  to  become  the  metropolis  of  a  great 
state,  and  a  principal  emporium  of  commerce,  literature,  and 
the  arts  to  a  great  nation.  Nor  were  all  the  first  settlements 
of  the  colony  within  the  limits  of  the  city — they  were  scat- 
tered over  several  of  the  neighboring  counties  ;  and,  by  the 
end  of  three  months  from  the  arrival  of  the  first  ship,  they 
amounted  to  three  thousand  sculs. 


LIBERTY. 

*Tis  Liberty  alone  that  gives  the  flower 
Of  fleeting  life  its  lustre  and  perfume  ; 
And  we  are  vveeds  without  it.     All  constraint, 
Except  what  wisdom  lays  on  evil  men, 
Is  evil ;  hurts  the  faculties ;  impedes 
Their  progress  in  the  road  to  science  ;  blinds 
The  eyesight  of  discovery ;  and  begets 
In  those  that  suffer  it,  a  sordid  mind  ** 

Bestial,  a  meager  intellect,  unfit 
To  be  the  tenant  of  man's  noble  form. 

How  many  houses  were  built  in  Philadelphia,  during  the  autrnnn 
in  which  William  Penn  first  arrhud  r — How  many  settlors  camo  tlio 
first  three  months  ? 

34 


SUSk 


858 


CAPTURE  OF  MRS.  DUSTON. 


CAPTURE  OF  MRS.  DUSTON. 

1.  In  the  year  1697,  on  the  5th  day  of  March,  a  body  of 
Indians  attacked  the  town  of  Haverhill,  Massachusetts,  burnt 
a  small  number  of  houses,  and  killed  and  captivated  about 
forty  of  the  inhabitants.  A  party  of  them,  arrayed  in  all  the 
terrors  of  Indian  war  dress,  and  carrying  with  itbijm  the  mul- 
tiplied horrors  of  a  savage  invasion,  approached  near  the 
house  of  a  Mr.  Duston.  This  man  was  abroad  at  his  usual 
labof.  Upon  the  first  alarm,  ho  flew  to  the  house,  with  a 
hope  of  hurrying  to  a  place  of  safety  his  family,  consisting 
of  kis  wife,  who  had  been  confined  a  week  only  in  child-bed, 
her  nurse,  a  Mrs.  Mary  TefF,  a  widow  from  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  eight  children.  Seven  of  his  children  he  order- 
ed to  flee  with  the  utmost  expedition,  in  the  course  opposite 
to  that  in  which  the  danger  was  approaching ;  and  went 
himself  to  assist  his  wife.  But  before  she  could  leave  her 
bed,  the  savages  were  upon  them. 

2.  Her  husband,  thus  despairing  of  rendering  her  any 
service,  flew  to  the  door,  mounted  his  horse,  and  determined 
to  snatch  up  the  child  with  which  he  was  unable  to  part, 
when  he  should  overtake  the  little  flock.  When  he  came 
up'  to  them,  about  two  hundred  yards  from  his  house,  he  was 
unable  to  make  a  choice,  or  to  leave  any  one  of  the  number. 
He  therefore  determined  to  take  his  lot  with  them,  and  to 
defend  them  from  their  murderers,  or  die  by  their  side.  A 
body  of  the  Indians  pursued  and  came  up  with  him ;  and 
from  near  distances  fired  at  him  and  his  little  company.  He 
returned  the  fire,  and  retreated,  alternately.  For  more  than 
a  mile,  he  kept  so  resolute  a  face  to  his  enemy,  retiring  in 
the  rear  of  his  charge,  returned  the  fire  of  the  savages  so 
often,  and  with  so  good  success,  and  sheltered  so  effectually 
his  terrified  companions,  that  he  finally  lodged  them  all,  safe 
from  the  pursuing  butchers,  in  a  distant  house. 

3.  Another  party  of  the  Indians  entered  the  house,  imme- 
diately aft«r  Mr.  Duston  had  quitted  it,  and  found  Mrs. 
Duston,  and  her  nurse,  who  was  attempting  to  fly  with  the 
infant  in  her  arms.  Mrs.  Duston  they  ordered  to  rise  in- 
stantly ;    and,   before  she   could   completely  dress  herself, 


When  Tvas  Mrs.  Duston  captured  ? — Where  did  she  live  ? — How 
old  wafi  her  in&nt  child  at  the  time  ? 


CAPTURE  OF  MRS.  DUSTON. 


239 


body  of 
ts,  burnt 
3d  about 
u  all  the 
the  mul- 
lear  the 
[lis  usual 
(,  with  a 
onsisting 
hild-bed, 
leighbor- 
he  order- 
1  opposite 
ind  went 
leave  her 

her  any 
jtermined 
e  to  part, 
,  he  came 
;e,  he  was 
number, 
m,  and  to 
side.    A 
im;  and 
luy.    He 
lore  than 
tiring  in 
lavages  so 
iffectually 
all,  safe 

se,  imme- 

md  Mrs. 

with  the 

lo  rise  in- 

herself, 


obliged  her  and  her  companion  to  quit  the  house,  after  they 
had  plundered  it,  and  set  it  on  fire.  In  company  with  seve- 
ral other  captives,  fiiey  began  their  march  into  the  wilder- 
ness— she,  feeble,  sick,  terrified  beyond  measure,  partially 
clad,  one  of  her  feet  bare,  and  the  season  utterly  unfit  for 
travelling.  The  air  was  chilly  and  keen,  and  the  earth  co- 
vered, ahernately,  with  snow  and  deep  mud.  Her  conductors 
were  unfeeling,  insolent,  and  revengeful.  Murder  was  their 
glory,  and  torture  their  sport.  Her  infant  was  in  her  nurse's 
arms, — and  infants  were  the  customary  victims  of  savage 
barbarity. 

4.  The  company  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance 
when  an  Indian,  thinking  it  an  incumbrance,  took  the  child 
out  of  the  nurse's  arms,  and  dashed  its  head  against  a  tree. 
Such  of  the  other  captives,  as  began  to  be  weary,  and  to  lag, 
the  Indians  tomahawked.  The  slaughter  was  not  an  act  of 
revenge,  nor  of  cruelty.  It  was  a  mere  convenience — an 
effort  so  familiar,  as  not  even  to  excite  an  emotion. — Feeble  as 
Mrs.  Duston  was,  both  she  and  her  nurse  sustained,  without 
yielding,  the  fatigue  of  the  journey.  Their  intense  distress 
for  the  death  of  the  child,  and  of  their  companions,  anxiety 
for  those  whom  they  had  left  behind,  and  unceasing  terror 
for  themselves,  raised  those  unhappy  women  to  such  a 
degree  of  vigour,  that,  notwithstanding  their  fatigue,  their 
exposure  to  cold,  their  sufferance  of  hunger,  and  their  sleep- 
ing on  damp  ground  under  an  inclement  sky,  they  finished 
an  expedition  of  about  eighty  miles,  without  losing  their 
spirits,  or  injuring  their  health. 

5.  The  wigwam  to  which  they  Were  conducted,  and  which 
belonged  lo  the  savage,  who  had  claimed  them  as  his  pro- 
perty, was  inhabited  by  twelve  persons.  In  the  month  of 
April,  this  family  set  out  with  their  captives  for  an  Indian 
settlement,  still  more  remote ;  and  informed  them,  that  when 
they  arrived  at  the  settlement,  they  must  be  stripped,  scourg- 
ed, and  run  the  gauntlet  naked,  between  two  files  of  Indians, 
containing  the  whole  number  found  in  the  settlement — foi 
such,  they  declared,  was  the  standing  custom  of  their  natjou. 
This  information  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  minds  of 
the  captive  women  ;  and  led  them,  irresistibly,  to  devise  all 


m 


ro  ?— How 


What  became  of  the  child  ?— How  far  was  Mrs.  Duston  carried  be- 
love  reachinfi;  the  wigwam  of  her  owner  ? 


mmi^K 


260 


CAPTURE  OF  MRS.  DUSTON. 


the  possible  means  of  escape.  On  the  31  st  of  the  same 
month,  very  early  in  the  morning,  Mrs.  Duston,  while  the 
Indians  were  asleep,  having  awaked  her  nurse,  and  a  fellow 
prisoner,  (a  youth  taken  some  time  before  from  Worcester) 
despatched,  with  the  assistance  of  her  companions,  ten  of 
the  twelve  Indians.  The  other  two  escaped.  With  the 
scalps  of  these  savages,  they  returned  through  the  wilder- 
ness ;  and,  having  arrived  safely  at  Haverhill,  and  afterwards 
at  Boston,  received  a  handsome  reward  for  their  intrepid 
conduct,  from  the  legislature. 

6.  Whether  all  their  suffermgs,  and  all  the  danger  of  suf- 
fering anew,  justified  this  slaughter,  may  probably  be  a  sub- 
ject of  inquiry  with  moralists.  The  truth  is,  the  season  of 
Indian  invasion,  burning,  butchering,  captivity,  threatening, 
and  torture,  is  an  unfortunate  time  for  nice  investigation, 
and  critical  moralizing.  A  wife,  who  had  just  seen  her 
house  burnt,  her  infant  dashed  against  a  tree,  and  her  com- 
panions coldly  murdered  one  by  one  ;  who  supposed  her  hus- 
band, and  her  remaining  children,  to  have  shared  the  same 
fete ;  who  was  threatened  with  torture,  and  indecency  more 
painful  than  torture ;  and  who  did  not  entertain  a  doubt, 
that  the  threatening  would  be  fulfilled  ;  would  probably  feel 
no  necessity,  when  she  found  it  in  her  power  to  despatch  the 
authors  of  her  sufferings,  of  asking  questions  concerning  any 
thing,  but  the  success  of  the  enterprise. 

7.  But  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  rectitude  of  her 
conduct,  that  of  her  husband  is  the  most  praiseworthy.  A 
finer  succession  of  scenes  for  the  pencil  was  hardly  ever  pre- 
sented to  the  eye,  than  is"  furnished  by  the  efforts  of  this  gal- 
lant man,  with  their  interesthig  appendages.  The  artist 
must  be  destitute  indeed  of  talents,  who  could  not  engross 
every  heart,  as  well  as  every  eye,  by  exhibitions  of  this  hus- 
band and  father,  flying  to  rescue  his  wife,  her  infant,  and 
her  nurse,  from  the  approaching  horde  of  savages ;  attempt- 
ing, on  his  horse,  to  select  from  his  flying  family,  the  child 
which  he  was  the  least  able  to  spare,  and  unable  to  make 
the  selection ;  alternately,  and  sternly,  retreating  behind  his 
inestimable  charge,  and  fronting  the  enemy  again,  receiving, 
and  returning  their  fire ;  and  presenting  himself,  equally,  as 
a  barrier  against  the  murderers,  and  a  shelter  to  the  fligh< 


How  did  she  elKsct  her  escape  ? 


NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT. 


861 


d  innocence  and  anguish.  In  the  back-ground  of  some  or 
other  of  these  pictures,  might  be  exhibited,  with  powerful 
impression,  the  kindled  dwelling,  the  sickly  mother,  the  ter- 
rified nurse  with  the  new-born  infant  in  her  arms  ;  and  the 
furious  nat,ives  surrounding  them,  driving  them  forward,  and 
displaying  the  trophies  of  savage  victory,  and  the  insolence 
of  savage  triumph. 


■  *NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT.* 

1.  From  the  year  1645,  when  the  first  suspicion  of  witch- 
craft in  New  England  began  at  Springfield,  several  persons 
were  accused  of  this  crime.  Of  those  who  were  accused, 
four  (to  wit,  one  at  Charlestown,  one  at  Dorchester,  one  at 
Cambridge,  and  one  at  Boston,)  were  executed.  For  almost 
thirty  years  afterwards,  the  subject  seems  to  have  slept  in 
tolerable  quiet.  But  in  the  year  1 687  or  168S,  four  of  the 
children  of  John  Goodwin,  a  respectable  inhabitant  of  Bos- 
ton, united  in  accusing  a  poor  Irish  woman  of  bewitching 
them.  The  accusation  was  unhappily  regarded  with  an  at- 
tention which  it  very  ill  deserved.  Not  only  did  the  citizens 
in  the  neighborhood  treat  the  subject  as  a  thing  of  conse- 
quence ;  but  a  number  of  the  clergy  held  a  day  of  fasting 
and  prayer  on  the  occasion  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Goodwin. 
This  unhappy  measure  gave  the  affair  a  solemn  aspect  at 
once.  The  poor  woman,  who  seems  to  have  been  stupified 
with  terror,  or  bewildered  by  distraction,  was  apprehended. 
An  inquest  of  physicians  pronounced  her  to  be  of  sound 
mind.  In  consequence  of  this  decision  she  was  tried,  and 
executed. 

2.  An  account  of  the  whole  transaction  was  published ; 
a  d  so  generally  were  the  wise  and  good,  as  well  as  the  weak 
and  wicked,  of  this  century,  convinced  of  the  reality  of 
witchcraft,  that  we  find,  not  only  Mr.  Baxter  writing  a  pre- 
face to  the  account,  and  declaring  him  who  would  not  be- 
lieve it  to  be  an  obdurate  Sadducee,  but  Glanville  publishing 
stories  of  witches ;    Sir  Matthew  Hale  trying  them  in  the 


When  and  whore  were  the  first  executions  in  New  England  for 
witchcraft  ? — When  and  where  was  the  next  execution  for  this  sup 
posed  crime,  about  thirty  years  afterwards  ? 
24t 


^ 


^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


11.25 


ISO 

mm 

m 

Hi 

lU 


1^ 


1^  1^ 

12.2 
2.0 


1 

^                                                                              « »#                                                                               i^  1 

V 

^1 

% 


/3 


f. 


y 


Photographic 

Sdoices 

Corporation 


^v 


\ 


r<N^ 


c\ 


\ 


>!S^^1. 


'^."^^ 


23  WIST  MAIN  Si  MET 

WHSTH.N.Y.  14SM 

(716)  •73-4503 


'4^ 


^mmmf^ 


fm 


NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT. 


court  of  king's  bench;  several  eminent  lawyers  laying 
down  rules  for  convicting  them ;  and  several  grave  clergy- 
men, such  as  Perkins  and  Bernard,  undertaking  to  prove  the 
existence,  and  defining  the  characteristics,  evidences,  and 
boundaries,  of  witchcraft.  With  all  these  preparatives,  it 
cannot  be  surprising,  that  at  a  time,  when  the  reality  of 
witchcraft  had  never  been  questioned,  and  in  a  country. 
^  wliere  it  scarcely  ever  had  been  doubted,  the  case  of  these 
chi'drcn  should  make  a  deep  impression.  The  same  gene- 
ral conviction  prevailed  every  where.  Every  where  persons 
suspected  of  being  witches,  and  wizards,  were  tried^,  con- 
demned, and  executed,  by  the  authority  of  the  first  tribunals 
in  Europe,  as  well  as  by  inferiof  judicatories.  In  Englan  I 
more  jKjrsons  were  executed  in  a  single  county,  than  in  all 
the  colonies  of  New  England,  from  the  arrival  of  the  Ply- 
mouth  £ettk;rs,  to  the  present  time. 

3.  It  ought  to  be  here  observed,  that  a  belief  in  the  exist- 
ence and  power  of  witches,  although  unwarranted  either  by 
reason  or  revelation,  has  been  the  universal  belief  of  mm. 
The  truth,  as  every  intelligent  and  candid  man  will  acknow- 
ledge, is,  the  existence  of  witchcraft  had  never  been  taken 
up  by  the  human  mind  as  a  subject  of  investigation.  This 
capital  point  had  been  uniformly  omitted ;  and  every  in- 
quirer, instead  of  examining  whether  there  was  any  such 
thing  as  witchcraft,  directed  all  his  efforts  to  determine  what 
were  its  causes,  characteristics,  proofs,  limits,  and  effects. 
Where  such  was  the  nature  of  discussions,  formed  by  states- 
men, judges,  lawyers,  and  divines,  the  only  proper  question 
concerning  this  subject  must,  it  is  obvious,  be  naturally  and 
universally  forgotten. 

4.  Near  the  close  of  February,  1692,  two  girls,  about 
eleven  years  of  age,  (a  daughter  and  a  niece  of  Mr.  Paris, 
minister  of  Danvers,  then  Salem-village)  and  two  other  girls 
in  the  neighborhood,  began,  as  the  children  of  Mr.  Goodwin 
had  done  before,  to  act  in  a  peculiar  and  unaccountable 
manner  ;  creeping  for  example  into  holes,  and  under  chairs, 
using  many  unnatural  gestures,  and  uttering  many  lidiculous 
observations,  equally  destitute  of  sense  and  sobriety.  This 
behttvior  excited  the  attention  of  the  neighborhood.  Se- 
veral physicians  were  consulted ;   all  of  whom,  except  one, 

Wbiit  19  said  of  executions  in  Enjj^land  for  witehondfl . 


NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT. 


963 


declared  themselves  unable  to  assign  a  cause  for  these  sin- 
gular affections  of  the  children.  This  man,  more  ignorant, 
or  more  superstitious,  than  his  companions,  confessed  his 
suspicion,  tliat  tlie  children  were  bewitched.  The  declara- 
tion appears  to  have  been  decisive.  The  connexiofiS  of  the 
cliildrea  immediately  applied  themselves  to  fasting  and 
prayer  ;  and  summoned  their  friends  to  imite  in  their  devo-' 
tions.  On  the  Nth  of  the  following  March,  Mr.  Paris  in- 
vited several  of  the  neighboring  ministers  to  unite  with  him 
m  prayer  at  his  own  house.  It  .vas  observed,  that  during 
liie  religious  exercises  the  children  were  generally  decent, 
and  still ;  and  that  after  the  service  was  ended,  they  renew- 
ed  their  former  inexplicable  conduct. 

5.  A  few  days  before  this,  an  Indian  man  and  woman, 
servants  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Paris,  formed  a  kind  of  magical 
cake ;  which  like  the  mola  among  the  Romans,  was  eS' 
teemed  f  acred  in  Mexico;  the  native  country  of  the  woman; 
and  was  supposed  by  these  ignorant  creatures,  to  possess  an 
efficacy ,  sufficient  to  detect  the  authors  of  the  witchcraft 
This  cake  was  given  to  the  house  dog,  as  having  the  com' 
mon  cenine  prerogative  of  corresponding  with  the  invisible 
w'j'-ld.  Soon  after  the  spell  was  finished,  the  children,  ao» 
quainted,  probably,  with  its  drift,  and  therefore  naturally 
considering  this  as  the  proper  time  to  make  disclosures,  be- 
gan to  point  out  the  authors  of  their  misfortunes.  The  first 
person  accused  was  the  Indian  woman  herself;  who  was  ac* 
cordingly  committed  to  prison  ;  and  after  lying  there  some 
time,  escaped  without  any  further  punishment,  except  being 
sold  tc  defray  tlie  expense  of  her  prosecution. 

6.  Two  other  women,  of  the  names  of  Good  and  Osborne; 
one,  long  sunk  in  melancholy,  the  other  bedrid,  were  next 
accused  by  the  children ;  and,  after  being  examined,  were 
also  committed  to  prison.  Within  five  weeks  a  Mrs.  Corey, 
and  a  Mrs.  Nurse,  women  of  unblemished  character,  and 
professors  of  religion,  were  added  to  the  number  of  the  ac- 
cused. Before  the  examination  of  Mrs.  Corey,  Mr.  Noyes, 
minister  of  Salem,  highly  esteemed  for  his  learittng,  piety, 
and  benevolence,  made  a  prayer.  She  was  then  vehemently 
accused  by  Mrs.  Putnam,  the  mother  of  one  of  theni,  and  by 
"  ■  i       ■  ■  —     ■  ■   .1 

When  nnd  under  what  cireumstanoae  wu  witohoraft  in  Salem 
made  a  matter  of  public  interest  * 


^0" 


« 


I  m  iiiBwpiwiwi 


^mimm 


364 


NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT. 


jeveral  other  personar,  who  now  declared  themselves  bewitch- 
ed, of  beating,  pinching,  strangling,  and  in  various  other 
ways  afflicting  them.  Mrs.  Putnam,  particularly,  complain- 
ed of  excruciating  distress  ;  and  with  loud,  piercing  shrieks, 
excited  in  the  numerous  spectators  emotions  of  astonish- 
ment, pity,  and  indignation,  bordering  upon  frenzy.  Mrs. 
Corey  was,  of  course,  pronounced  guilty,  and  imprisoned. — 
Soon  after  her  commitment,  a  child  of  Sarah  Good,  the  me- 
lancholy woman  mentioned  above,  a  child  between  four  and 
five  years  old,  was  accused  by  the  same  woman  of  bewitch- 
ing them  ;  and  accordingly  was  imprisoned. 

7.  In  the  mean  time  fasts  were  multiplied.  Several  public 
ones  were  kept  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  ;  and,  final- 
ly, a  general  fast  was  holden  throughout  the  colony.  By 
these  successive  solemnities  the  subject  acquired  a  conside- 
ration literally  sacred;  and  alarmed,  and  engrossed  the 
minds  of  the  whole  community.  Magistrates  and  clergymen 
gave  to  it  the  weight  of  their  belief,  and  their  reputation  ; 
led  their  fellow  citizens  into  a  labyrinth  of  error,  and  iniqui- 
ty ;  aiid  stained  the  character  of  their  country,  in  the  eye  of 
all  succeeding  generations.  Had  Mr.  Paris,  instead  of  lis- 
tening to  the  complaints  of  the  children  in  his  family,  and 
holding  days  of  fasting  and  prayer,  on  so  preposterous  an 
occasion,  corrected  them  severely ;  had  the  physician,  men- 
tioned above,  instead  of  pronouncing  them  bewitched,  ad- 
ministered to  them  a  strong  dose  of  ipecacuanha ;  had  the 
magistrates  who  received  the  accusations,  and  examined  the 
accused,*  dismissed  both,  and  ordered  the  accused  to  prison, 
or  finally,  had  the  judges  of  the  superior  court  directed  the 
first  indictment  to  be  quashed,  and  sent  the  prisoners  home ; 
the  evil,  in  either  of  these  stages,  might  undoubtedly  have 
been  stopped.  But,  unhappily,  all  these  were  efforts  of  rea- 
son wliich  lay  beyond  the  spirit  of  the  times. 

8.  That  Mr.  Paris,  Mr.  Noyes,  and  Mr.  Hale,  believed 
the  existence  of  the  witchcraft  in  Salem  Village,  cannot  be 
questioned-  That  they  seem  to  have  been  men  of  a  fair  re- 
ligious character  must  be  acknowledged.  But  it  must  also 
be  acknowledged,  that  both  they  and  Messieurs  Hawthorn 
and  Corwin,  the  magistrates  principally  concerned,  men  of 
good  character  likewise,  were,  in  the  present  case,  rash  and 
mcxcusable.  They  were  not  merely  deceived  ;  but  they  de- 
ceived themselves  and  infatuated  others,    l^hey  were  not 


NEW  ENGLAND  WltCHCRAPl . 


206 


iod^i^ely  zealous,  but  unjust.  They  received  from  persons 
unknown,  injudicial  proceedings  as  witnesses,  evidence  equally 
contradictory  to  law,  to  common  sense,  and  to  the  scriptures. 
Spectral  evidence,  as  it  was  termed,  that  is,  evidence  founded 
on  apparitions,  and  other  supernatural  appearances,  professed 
to  be  seen  by  the  accusers,  was  the  only  basis  of  a  train  of 
capital  convictions. 

9.  Children,  incapable  of  understanding  the  things  about 
which  they  gave  testimony,  were  yet,  at  times,  the  only  wit- 
nesses ;  and  what  was  still  worse,  the  very  things  which  they 
testified,  were  put  into  their  minds  and  mouths,  by  the  exa- 
miners,  in  the  questions  which  they  aslced.  In  one  case,  a 
man,  named  Samuel  Wardwell,  was  tried,  condemned,  and 
executed,  on  the  testimony  of  his  wife  and  daughter,  who 
appear  to  have  accused  him,  merely  for  the  sake  of  saving 
themselves.  Soon  after  these  examinations,,  the  number  Of 
accusers,  and  by  necessary  consequence  of  the  accused  also, 
multiplied  to  a  most  alarming  degree.  To  recite  the  story 
would  be  useless,  as  well  as  piinful.  In  substance,  it  would 
be  little  else  than  what  has  been  already  said.  AH  tliose 
who  were  executed,  denied  the  charge,  and  finally  declared 
their  innocence ;  although  several  of  them,  in  the  moment 
of  terror,  had  made  partial  confessions  of  their  'guilt.'  A 
considerable  number,  for  the  same  purpose,  acknowledged 
themselves  guilty,  and  thus  escaped  death.  To  such  a  de- 
gree did  the  frenzy  prevail,  that  in  the  January  following, 
the  grand  jury  indicted  almost  fifty  persons  for  witchcraft. 

10.  Nor  was  the  evil  confined  to  this  neiorhborhood.  It 
soon  spread  into  various  {)arts  of  Essex,  Middlesex,  and  Suf> 
folk.  Persons  at  Andover,  Ipswich,  Gloucester,  Boston,  and 
several  other  places,  were  accused  by  their  neighbors,  and 
others.  For  some  time,  the  victims  were  selected  only.from 
the  lower  classes.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  spirit 
of  accusation  began  to  lay  hold  on  persons  of  more  coUse- 
ouence.  On  the  5th  of  August,  1692,  Mr.  George  Bur- 
roughs, who  had  formerly  preached  in  Salem  Village,  and 
afterwards  at  Wells,  in  the  province  of  Maine,  was  brought 
to  trial  for  bewitching  Mary  Wolcott,  an  inhabitant  of  the 
village,  and  was  condemned.  Mr.  English,  a  respectable 
merchant  in  Salem,  and  his  wife  ;  Messrs.  Dudley  and  John 
Bradstreet,  sons  of  the  late  Gov.  Bradstreet ;  the  wife  of 
Mr.  Hale ;  the  lady  of  sir  William  Phipps,  and  the  Secrdtarjr 


S€6    NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT. 

of  Connecticut,  were  all  among  the  accused.  Mr.  Eng'ish 
and  h»s  wife  fled  to  New  York.  Mr.  Dudley  Bradstreet  had 
already  committed  between  thirty  and  forty  persons  for  this 
suppfbseO  crime  ;  but  being  weary  and  discouraged,  declined 
any  further  interference  in  ^he  business.  Upon  this,  he  was 
charged  w  ith  having  killed  nine  persons  by  witchcraft ;  and 
was  obligcvl  to  flee  to  the  district  of  Maine.  His  brother 
John  being  accused  of  having  bewitched  a  dog,  and  riding 
apon  his  bac'c,  fled  into  New  Hampshire.  At  Andovcr,  a 
dog  was  accused  of  bewitching  several  human  beings,  and 
put  to  death. 

11.  The  evil  now  became  too  great  to  be  borne.  A  man, 
named  Giles  Corey,  had  been  pressed  to  death  for  refusing 
to  plead  ;  and  nineteen  persons  had  been  executed.  More 
than  one  third  of  these  were  members  of  the  Christian 
Church  ;  and  more  than  one  half  had  borne  an  unblemished 
character.  One  hundred  and  fifty  were  in  prison ;  two 
hundred  others  were  accused.  Suspense  and  terror  spread 
through  the  colony.  Neither  age  nor  sex,  neither  ignorance 
nor  innocence,  neither  learning  nor  piety,  neither  reputation 
nor  oflSce,  furnished  the  least  security.  Multitudes  appear 
to  have  accused  others,  merely  to  save  themselves.  Among 
the  accused,  not  a  small  number  confessed  themselves  guilty 
for  the  same  reason  ;  for  by  a  strange  inversion  of  judicial 
process,  those  who  confessed  the  crime  escaped ;  while  those 
who  protested  their  innocence,  died  without  proof,  and  with- 
out mercy. 

12.  While  the  mischief  was  thus  rolling  up  to  a  moun- 
tainous size,  the  principal  persons  in  the  colony  began  seri- 
ously to  ask  themselves  where  it  would  end.  A  conviction 
began  to  spread  that  the  proceedings  were  rash,  and  indefen- 
sible. Mr.  Hale  probably  changed  his  opinion,  because  his 
wife  was  accused.  The  same  consideration  undoubtedly  in- 
fluenced sir  Wiliiam  Phipps.  A  respectable  man  in  Boston, 
having  been  accused  by  some  persons  at  Andovor,  arrested 
his  accusers  for  defamation  ;  and  laid  his  damages  nt  a  ihou- 
eand  pounds.  In  consequence  of  this  spirited  conduct,  the 
frenzy  in  that  town  disappeared.     In  other  places,  the  dis- 


How  many  persons  were  indicted  for  witchcraft,  by  the  Grknd 
Jury  of  Salom,  in  January  1693  ? — How  many  had  been  executed  ?— 
What  was  the  greatest  number  imprisoned  at  one  time  ? — Of  accused  ? 


NEW  ENGLAND  WITCHCRAFT. 


2G7 


iir.  Eng'ish 
idstreet  had 
)ns  for  this 
d,  declined 
his,  he  was 
icrafl ;  and 
lis  brotlier 
and  riding 
Andover,  a 
beings,  and 

J.  A  man, 
br  refusing 
ted.  More 
;  Christian 
nblemished 
rison ;  two 
rror  spread 
r  ignorance 
'  reputation 
des  appear 
s.  Among 
ilves  guilty 
of  judicial 
while  those 
and  with- 


10  a  moun- 

egan  seri- 

conviction 

id  indcfen- 

)ecause  his 

ubtedjy  in- 

in  Boston, 

;r,  arrested 

3  at  a  thou- 

)nduct,  the 

;s,  the  dis- 


tho  Grhnd 
sxecnted  ?— 
Of  accused  ? 


tresses,  the  fair  character,  and  the  apparent  innocence  of 
many  of  the  sufferers,  wrought  silently,  but  powerfully,  on 
the  people  at  large.  At  the  last  special  court  of  Oyer  and 
Terminer,  holden  on  this  subject,  of  fifty  who  were  brought 
to  trial,  all  were  acquitted,  except  three  ;  and  these  were  re- 
prieved by  the  governor.  These  events  were  followed  by  a 
general  release  of  those  who  had  been  imprisoned.  Thus 
the  cloud  which  had  so  long .  hung  over  the  colony,  slowly 
and  sullenly  retired ;  and  like  the  darkness  of  Egypt,  was 
to  the  great  joy  of  the  distressed  inhabitants,  succeoued  by 
serenity  and  sunshine. 

13.  At  this  period,  and  for  some  time  after,  attempts  were 
made  in  various  places  to  revive  these  persecutions ;  but 
they  failed  of  success.  It  has  been  said  that  an  inhabitant 
of  Northampton  accused  one  of  his  neighbors  of  bewitching 
him  to  the  Hon.  Mr.  Partridge,  a  very  respectable  magistrate 
in  Hatfield.  This  gentleman,  understanding  perfectly  the 
nature  of  the  accusation,  and  foreseeing  the  mischiefs  which 
would  spring  from  any  serious  attention  to  it,  told  the  ac- 
cuser, that  as  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  try  the  cause  imme- 
diately, he  would  hold  a  court  at  Northampton  for  that  pur- 
pose, on  a  special  day  of  the  succeeding  week  ;  but  that  he 
could  now  finish  a  part  of  the  business.  It  was  a  rule  of 
law,  he  said,  that  the  informant  should,  in  various  cases,  re- 
ceive half  of  what  was  adjudged.  A  person  convicted  of 
witchcraft,  was  by  law  punished  with  twenty  stripes.  He 
should,  therefore,  order  ten  of  these  to  the  accuser.  They 
were  accordingly  inflicted  on  the  spot.  At  the  appointed 
time  the  court  was  opened  at  Northampton  ;  but  no  accuser 
appeared. 

14.  This  confessedly  illegal,  but  exemplary,  wise,  and  just 
administration,  smothered  the  evil  here  in  its  birth.  Had 
measures  equally  \^  ise  been  adopted  throughout  the  colony,  the 
story  of  New  England  witclicraft  would  never  have  been  told. 
From  this  period  the  belief  of  witchcraft  seems  gradually, 
and  almost  entirely,  to  have  vanished  from  ^v-w  England. 
There  is,  perhaps,  no  country  in  the  world,  whose  inhabit- 
ants more  generally  treat  the  whole  train  of  invisible  beings 
which  people  the  regions  of  superstition  and  credulity,  with 
less  respect,  or  who  distinguish  religion  from  its  counterfeits 


How  was  the  progreM  of  witchcraft  checked  at  Northampton  ' 


^ 


IWW I  111  J 


26d 


PETER  THE  GREAT. 


with  more  universality,  or  correctness.  Even  conjurers  and 
fortune-tellers,  who  so  easily  fascinate  the  curiosity  of  man- 
kind, and  acquire  an  importance  in  the  eye  of  fancy  which 
reason  reprobates,  are  generally  regarded,  here,  with  con- 
tempt and  ridicule. 


PETER  THE  GREAT. 

Immortal  Peter !  first  of  rnonarchs  !  He 

His  stubborn  country  tamed,  her  rocks,  her  fens, 

Her  floods,  her  seas,  her  ill-submitting  sons  ; 

And  while  the  fierce  barbarian  he  subdued, 

To  more  exalted  soul  he  rais'd  the  man. 

Ye  shades  of  ancient  heroes,  ye  who  toiled 

Thro*  long  successive  ages  to  build  up 

A  laboring  plan  of  state,  behold  at  once 

The  vironder  done  !  behold  the  matchless  prince  ! 

Who  left  his  native  throne,  where  reigned  till  then 

A  mighty  shadow  of  unreal  power ; 

Who  greatly  spurned  the  slothful  pomp  of  courts ; 

And,  roaming  every  land,  in  every  port. 

His  sceptre  laid  aside,  with  glorious  hand 

Unweary'd  plying  the  mechanic  tool, 

Gathered  the  seeds  of  trade,  of  useful  arts, 

Of  civil  wisdom,  and  of  martial  skill. 

Charged  with  the  stores  of  Europe  home  he  goes  ! 
Then  cities  rise  amid  the  illumined  waste  ; 
O'er  joyless  dest- rts  smiles  the  rural  reign  ; 
Far-distant  flood  to  flood  is  social  ioined  : 
The  astonished  Euxine  hears  the  Baltic  roar ; 
Proud  navies  ride  on  seas  that  never  foamed 
With  daring  keel  before  ;  and  armies  stretch 
Each  way  their  dazzling  files,  repressing  here 
The  frantic  Alexander  of  the  north. 
And  awing  there  stern  Othman's  shrinking  sons. 
Sloth  flies  the  land,  and  ignorance,  and  vice 
Of  old  dishonor  proud  ;  it  glows  around. 
Taught  by  the  royal  hand  that  roused  the  whole, 
One  scene  of  arts,  of  arms,  of  rising  trade  ; 
For  what  his  wisdom  planned,  and  power  enforced, 
More  potent  still,  his  great  example  showed. 


Pi 


wm 


■« 


wmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmi 


GENERAL  OGLETHORPE. 
GENERAL  OGLETHORPE. 


1.  The  life  of  general  Oglethorpe,  the  founder  of  Georgia, 
would  require  but  little  embellishment  to  make  it  a  tale  ol 
romance.  It  was  full  of  variety,  adventure,  and  achieve 
ment.  His  ruling  passions  were  the  love  of  glory,  of  hia 
country,  and  of  mankind}  and  these  were  so  blended  toge 
ther  in  his  mind  that  they  formed  but  one  principle  of  action. 
He  was  a  hero,  a  statesman,  an  orator,  the  patron  of  letters, 
the  chosen  friend  of  men  of  genius,  and  the  theme  of  praise 
for  great  poets. 

2.  Tn  his  youth,  after  having  been  the  confidential  aid-de- 
camp of  the  earl  of  Peterborough,  whom  he  resembled  in 
his  restless  activity  of  mind  and  body,  he  early  attracted  the 
notice  of  the  great  duke  of  Marlborough,  and  afterwards 
served  with  distinguished  reputation  under  prince  Eugene, 
in  Germany,  Hungary,  and  Turkey.  From  his  boyhood  he 
uniformly  enjoyed  the  friendship  and  confidence  of  his  gal* 
lant  and  eloq'aent  countryman,  John,  duke  of  Argyle,  who, 
m  an  animated  speech  in  parliament,  bore  splendid  testimony 
to  his  military  talents,  his  natural  generosity,  his  contempt 
(or  danger,  and  his  devotion  to  the  public  weal. 

3.  Passing  from  the  camp  to  the  senate,  he  soon  became 
conspicuous  for  his  manly  independence,  ahd  still  more  for 
the  ardor  and  purity  of  his  benevolence.  Anticipating  the 
labors  of  Howard,  he  plunged  into  the  dark  and  pestilential 
dungeons,  in  which  prisoners  for  debt  in  England  were  at 
that  time  confined,  dragged  to  light  the  most  atrocious  abuses, 
restored  to  freedom  multitudes  who  had  long  suffered  under 
legal  oppression,  and  obtained  public  and  exemplary  punish^ 
ment  of  the  men  who  had  been  guilty  of  these  outrages 
against  justice  and  humanity. 

4.  Soon  after  tiiis  a  colony  was  projected,  which,  without 
any  prospect  of  profit  or  remuneration  to  those  who  directed 
it,  had  in  view  the  double  object  of  relieving  England  from 
some  portion  of  the  daily  increasing  burden  of  her  pauper- 
ism, and  of  opening  an  avenue  to  useful  and  independent 
industry  to  those  who  had  fallen  into  unmerited  misfortune. 
General  Oglethorpe  was  placed  at  the  head  of  this  enterprise, 


With  what  philanthropiiit  has  general  Oglethorpe  been  compavod  f 
—What  was  the  object  in  founding  Georgia  f 
25 


^"fPFmpn" 


^f^^mmmm 


I'm 


270 


GENERAL  OGLETHORPE. 


and  entered  upon  it  with  that  ardor  which  marked  all  his 
undertakings.  Animated  by  the  hope  of  gaining  glory,  and 
of  doing  good,  he  cheerfully  expended  a  large  portion  of  his 
private  fortune,  and  encountered  every  variety  of  fatigue  and 
danger. 

5.  It  was  in  1732,  immediately  atier  making  a  spirited  and 
patriotic  effort  in  parliament  to  restore  a  constitutional  mili- 
tia, and  to  abolish  arbitrary  impressment  for  the  sea-service, 
that  he  letl  England  to  become  the  founder  of  the  colony  of 
Georgia.  The  suppression  of  the  slave-trade  had  also  long 
engaged  his  attention,  and  under  his  auspices  this  infant  co- 
lony set  the  example  of  a  legal  prohibition  of  this  traffic  in 
the  blood  of  man. 

6.  Various  untoward  circumstances  conspired  to  check 
the  growth  of  the  new  settlement,  and  to  frustrate  the  innu- 
merable plans  of  agricultural  and  political  improvement  which 
were  constantly  suggested  by  the  busy  and  fertile  mind  of  the 
governor  ;  and,  in  a  few  years,  these  labors  were  completely 
interrupted  by  the  alarm  of  a  Spanish  and  Indian  war.  The 
benign  legislator  and  magistrate  resumed,  at  once,  the  habits 
of  his  youth,  and  approved  himself  the  hardy,  daring,  and 
adventurous  soldier.  By  his  unwearied  activity,  and  the  ex- 
ample of  his  personal  courage,  not  less  than  by  his  military 
skill  and  enterprise,  in  the  laborious  southern  campaigns  of 
1740  and  1742,  he  repelled  the  inroads  of  a  far  superior  ene- 
my, which  threatened  the  subjugation  of  Georgia  and  the 
devastation  of  the  Carolinas. 

7.  It  was  this  fine  combination  of  chivalry  and  philan- 
thropy in  the  character  of  general  Oglethorpe,  graced  as  it 
was  by  a  variety  of  accomplishments  and  the  love  of  letters, 
that  excited  the  warm  admiration  of  Johnson,  who  intended 
to  become  his  biographer— that  called  forth  the  eulogy  of 
Pope,  in  those  well  known  lines. 

And  driven  by  strong  benevolence  of  soul. 
Shall  fly,  like  Oglethorpe,  form  pole  to  pole  ; 

and  which  induced  Thomson  to  celebrate  the  praises  of  the 
founder  of  Savannah,  among  those  of  the  most  brilliant  he- 
roes and  patriots  of  ancient  or  of  English  history — 

What  law  was  paused  in  Georgia  concerning  slavery,  en  its  firrt 
Rettlemen,t  ? 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


971 


Lo  Bwarming  southward  on  rejoicing  suni 
Gay  colonies  extend ;  the  calm  retreat 
Of  undeserved  distress,  the  better  home 
Of  those  whom  bigots  chase  from  foreign  lands. 
Not  built  on  Rapine,  Servitude,  and  Wo, 
And  in  their  turn  some  petty  tyrant's  prey ; 
But  bound  by  social  freedom,  firm  they  rise, 
Such  as  of  late  an  Oglethorpe  has  formed, 
And  crowding  round,  the  pleas'd  Savannah  sees. 

8.  General  Oglethorpe  administered  the  affairs  of  the  colony 
for  about  eleven  years.  He  afterwards  passed  *'  without  fear 
and  without  reproach,"  through  many  alternations  of  fortune, 
both  in  public  and  private  life,  constantly  emulating  Howard 
in  the  zeal  and  extent  of  his  charity,  and  sustaining  a  charac- 
ter as  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  such  as  sir  Philip  Sidney  or 
lord  Falkland  might  have  envied.  His  habitual  temperance 
and  activity  preserved  his  health  and  faculties  to  extreme  old 
age.  He  died  in  1785,  affording  the  first  example,  in  mo- 
dern times,  of  the  founder  of  a  colony  who  has  lived  to  see 
that  colony  recognised  by  the  world  as  a  sovereign  and  inde- 
pendent state.  Col.  Daniel  Boon,  the  adventurous  founder 
of  the  state  of  Kentucky,  is,  perhaps,  the  only  other  instance 
of  this  remarkable  distinction. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 

See  on  yon  darkening  height  bold  Franklin  tread, 
Heaven's  awful  thunders  rolling  o'er  his  head ; 
Convolving  clouds  the  billowy  skies  deform, 
And  forky  fiames  emblaze  the  black'ning  storm. 
See  the  descending  streams  around  him  burn, 
Glance  on  his  rod,  and  with  his  guidance  turn ; 
He  bids  conflicting  heav'ns  their  blast  expire. 
Curbs  the  fierce  blaze,  and  holds  th'  imprisoned  fire. 
No  more,  when  folding  storms  the  vault  o'erspread, 
The  livid  glare  shall  strike  thy  face  with  dread  ; 
Nor  tow'rs  nor  temples,  shudd'ring  with  the  sound, 
Sink  in  the  flames,  and  spread  destruction  round. 

1 — -M-     II  11.11-  I  '  -M  «^aa^Hi^»^  * 

At  what  ago  and  when  did  General  Oglethorpe  die  ? — "Wbc^  reMm 
blance  is  there  between  his  life  and  that  of  Col   Daniel  lAotvn,  tb« 
ftonder  of  Kentucky  ? 


p 


^m^mrn 


^mmmmm 


272     DESTRUCTION  OF  TEA  AT   BOSTON. 

His  daring  toils,. the  threatening  blasts  that  wait, 

Shall  teach  mankind  to  ward  the  bolts  of  fate  ; 

The  pointed  steel  overtop  th'  ascending  spire, 

And  lead  o'er  trembling  walls  the  harmless  fire  J 

In  his  glad  fame  while  distant  worlds  rejoice, 

Far  as  the  lightnings  shine,  or  thunders  raise  their  voice. 


DESTRUCTION  OF  TEA  AT  BOSTON 

1.  After  the  act  of  the  British  parliament,  laying  a  duty 
oil  paper,  glass,  tea,  &C.'  was  repealed,  with  the  exception  of 
tea,  on  which  the  duty  was  continued,  associations  were  en- 
tered into  in  all  the  colonies  of  North  America,  to  discourage 
the  use  of  it.  The  consumption  was  of  course  greatly  di- 
minished, and  the  tea  accumulated  in  the  English  warehouses. 
The  East  India  Company  sought  relief  from  government,  and 
urged  them  to  take  off  the  duty  on  importation  in  America, 
and  double  the  duty  on  exportation  in  England.  This  pro- 
posal, which  would  have  produced  nearly  the  same  result  as 
to  the  amount  of  revenue  received,  and  have  obviated  one 
serious  cause  of  dispute,  was  declined. 

2.  The  ministry,  bent  on  l«3vying  their  American  duty, 
thought  this  tea  the  most  useful  article  for  the  experiment. 
They  calculated  that  this  luxury,  which,  from  \otx-i  habit  and 
extensive  use,  had  become  almost  a  necessary  of  life,  would 
inevitably  find  purcliasers,  in  spite  of  all  private  associations 
or  patriotic  agreements.  In  this  cnse,  as  in  ^^any  others, 
they  reposed  a  false  coniidence  in  their  estimate  of  human 
character ;  and  forgot  that  some  general  maxims,  however 
just  in  ordinary  times,  may  be  inapplicable  in  great  emergen- 
cies, even  among  a  people  more  corrupt  and  efFeminate,  than 
those  whom  they  were  now  endeavoring  to  subdue.  But  to 
meet  the  wishes  of  the  company,  a  diawback  was  rriven  in 
England,  equal  to  the  duty  which  they  had  uskcd  to  have  re- 
moved, and  a  guarantee  against  loss,  in  the  experiment  of 
making  shipments  of  tea  to  tlie  colonies. 

3.  Large  shipments  of  tea  were  made  to  the  principal 
ports  of  the  continent,  and  a  genera!  ferment  prevailed  over 
every  part  of  the  country.     It  was  not  only  determined  that 

Whnt  proposition  did  the  East  India  Company  propose  to  obtiai« 
ths  diiilcnltv  concerning^  tea  ? 

t  St 


>tce. 


N 

T  a  duty 
ption  of 
vere  eri- 
icourage 
eatly  di- 
ehouses. 
lent,  and 
Unerica, 
'his  pro- 
result  as 
ated  one 

an  duty, 
)eriment. 
labit  and 
"e,  would 
ociations 
ly  others, 
f  human 
however 
^mergen- 
[late,  than 
But  to 
criven  m 
)  have  re- 
iiiient  of 

1  principal 
(liled  over 
IVmed^t 

to  obtiat« 


:^rM':iM 


l£ 


i 


DESTRUCTION  OF  TEA  AT  BOSTON.     278 

the  tea  itself  should  not  l>e  received,  but  whoeyer  made  ti^e 
of  this  (ministerially)  obnoxious  herb,  was  regarded  as  an 
enemy  to  the  country.  The  utmost  vigilance  was  employed 
fo  prevent  its  being;  consumed  by  those  persons,  whose  inno* 
cent  daily  comforts  were  thus  involved  in  the  vortex  of 
national  comention ;  a  rigid  inquisition  was  every  where 
enforced  for  this  purpose,  that  on  other  grounds  would  have 
been  both  odious  and  absurd,  but  was  justified  by  the  neces- 
sity of  combating,  in  this  familiar  shape,  a  principle,  which 
was  shortly  after  to  be  resisted  by  open  war. 

4.  Long  before  the  ships  arrived  with  the  tea,  arrangi^* 
ments  were  made  to  avert  the  threateiled  mischief.  Iti 
many  cases,  the  consignees  were  induced  td  decline  accept- 
ing the  charge  of  it.  Very  spirited  resolutions  were  entered 
into  at  a  public  meeting  of  the  citizens  in  Philadelphia,  With 
which  the  consignees  complied  by  resigning  their  appoint- 
ment. From  that  city;  and  from  New  York,  it  was  sent  back 
to  England  in  the  sam^  ships  that  brought  it.  In  GharleeK 
ton,  it  was  landed,  and  stored  expressly  in  damp  Warehouse^ 
#here  it  was  destroyed  by  the  humidity.  In  Boston,  it  was 
destini^d  to  a  more  violent  destruction. 

6.  Two  of  the  vessels,  with  the  tea,  arrived  on  |Saturday, 
November  27th.  A  town  meeting  was  held  on  Monday  fol- 
lowing, and  resolutions  were  passed  similar  to  those  of  Phila* 
delpbia,  calling  on  the  consignees,  among  whom  were  twd 
sons  of  governor  Hutchinson,  to  decline  the  charge  of  it.  A 
vole  was  then  passed  with  acclamations,  "  that  the  tea  shall 
not  be  lakided,  that  no  'duty  ishall  be  paid,  and  that  it  shall  be 
sent  back  in  the  same  bottoms.."  After  this  vote,  Mr.  Cluin- 
cy,  a  young  and  eloquent  advocate,  and  ardent  patriot.  With 
a  strong  perception  of  the  events  that  would  follow  f>onn  thf» 
measure  now  in  contemplation,  and  wishing  to  try  the  spirit, 
and  to  increase  the  energy  of  his  fellow  citizens,  by  settin^^ 
before  them,  in  a  strong  light,  the  consequences  that  mi^ht 
be  expected  from  their  resolves,  addressed  the  meeting  in  the 
following  terms : 

6.  **  ft  is  not,  Mr.  Moderator,  the  spirit  that  vapors  within 
these  walls,  that  must  stand  us  in  s^ead.  The  exertions  of 
this  day  will  call  forth  events,  which  will  make  a  very  differ- 

What  meatures  were  adopted  by  tho  citizens  of  America,  when 
large  shipMetnts  of  tea  were  made  ?— What  was  done  in  Philadelphia 
and  New  York  ?— In  Charleiton  ?  .-^^ 


MlHIMiaMMMn 


wm^ 


M 


wmm 


374     DEli3TIlUCTION  OP  TBAMT  BOSTON. 

ent  spirit  necessary  for  our  own  salvation.  Whoever  sap* 
poses,  that  shouts  and  hosannas  will  terminate  the  trials  of 
the  day,  entertains  a  childish  fancy.  We  must  be  grossly 
Ignorant  of  the  importance  and  value  of  the  prize  for  which 
we  contend ;  we  must  be  equally  ignorant  of  the  power  of 
those  combined  against  us ;  we  must  be  blind  to  that  malice, 
inveteracy,  and  insatiable  revenge,  which  actuate  our  ene- 
mies, public  and  private,  abroad  and  in  our  bosom,  to  hope 
that  we  shall  end  this  controversy  without  the  sharpest  con- 
flicts,— to  flatter  ourselves  that  popular  resolves,  popular 
harangues,  popular  acclamations,  and  popular  vapor,  will  van* 
quish  our  foes.  Let  us  consider  the  issue.  Let  us  look  to  the 
end.  Let  us  weigh  and  consider,  before  we  advance  to  those 
measures,  which  must  bring  on  the  most  trying  and  terrible 
struggle  this  country  ever  saw." 

7  The  vote  was  again  submitted  to  the  meeting,  and  was 
again  passed  unanimously.  A  guard  for  the  protection  of 
the  vessels  was  appointed,  which  protection  included  the  pro- 
tection of  the  public  against  the  landing  of  the  tea.  This 
guard  of  ta^enty-flve  men,  were  respectable  citizens,  volun- 
teers, amffacting  under  the  direction  of  the  coraifiittee  of 
eorresponaence.  The  meeting  was  then  adjourned  to  the 
next  day.  When  the  town  were  again  assembled,  the  an- 
swer of  the  consigness  was  read — they  refused  the  proposi- 
tion to  send  it  back,  but  offered  to  store  it.  The  sherifl'  came 
in,  and  read  a  proclamation  from  the  governor,  ordering  the 
meeting  to  disperse,  which  was  received  with  one  universal 
hiss.  Votes  were  passed,  ordering  the  owners  and  captains 
of  the  vessels  not  to  sufler  the  tea  to  be  landed.  Attempts 
were  made,  in  the  mean  time,  to  negotiate,  and  induce  the 
merchants,  and  the  custom-house,  to  clear  out  the  tea,  and 
send  it  back.     All  was  in  vain. 

8.  At  length,  the  time  was  expiring,  when  the  tea  could 
remain  any  longer  in  this  situation  ;  the  patience  of  the  in- 
habitants was  exhausted  ;  the  anxiety  and  watching  ^were  too 
troublesome  to  be  further  endured.  A  meeting,  according 
to  previous  notification,  was  held  on  the  15th  of  December, 
at  the  Old  South  Church,  when  Mr.  Rotch,  the  owner  of  the 
largest  parcel  of  tea,  attended,  and  after  much  difficulty,  he 
was  persuaded  to  apply  to  the  custom-house  for  a  clearance, 
and  the  meeting  adjourned,  to  hear  the  result,  till  the  next 
morning.     Ten  gentlemen  accompanied  him  to  the  custom- 


DESTRUCTION  OP  TEA  AT  BOSTON.     276 

house,  and  the  clearance  was  refused  in  a  peremp;ory  man- 
net.  A  vote  of  the  meeting  was  then  passed,  ordering  hib 
lA  protest  against  this  refusal,  and  a  deputation  was  sent  With 
him  to  governor  Hutchinson,  who  was  at  his  country-seat  oil 
Milton-Hill,  seven  miles  from  Boston,  to  entreat  him  to  grant 
a  pass  that  the  vessel  might  leave  the  harbor. 

9.  In  the  mean  time,  various  speeches  were  made  in  the 
meeting  to  keep  the  people  together,  which  wf:rc  said  to 
amount  to  six  or  seven  thousand  persons.  Mr.  John  Rowe, 
an  eminent  merchant  and  patriotic  citizen,  who  was,  dOubt-* 
less  J  in.  the  secret  of  the  measures  that  were  to  bo  taken  ifl 
the  last  resort,  hinted,  in  the  form  of  inquiry,  '*  Who  knows 
how  tea  will  mix  with  salt  water  1"  which  was  received  with 
applause.  At  length,  Lbout  sun-down,  the  deputation  re- 
turned from  the  governor,  with  his  refusal  to  grant  the  pass. 
A  few  minutes  after,  a  band  of  eighteen  Oi*  twenty  young 
men,  who  had  been  prepared  for  the  event,  went  by  the 
meeting  house,  giving  a  shout.  It  was  echoed  by  some 
within  ;  others  exclaimed,  "the  Mohawks  are  cotne  !"  The 
assembly  broke  up,  and  a  part  of  it  followed  this  body  of 
young  men  to  Griffin's  wharf,  (now  called  Liverpool-wharf,) 
on  the  south  side  of  the  town. 

10.  Three  different  parties,  cOUiposed  of  trust-worthy  per- 
sons, many  of  whom  in  after  life  were  among  the  most  re- 
spectable citizens  of  the  town,  had  been  prepared,  in  con* 
formity  to  the  secret  resolves  of  the  politica  leaders,  to  act 
as  circumstances  should  require.  One  or  two  ol  these  par- 
ties wore  a  kind  of  Indian  disguise.  They  were  seventy  of 
eighty  in  all ;  and  whe..  every  attempt  had  failed  to  have  the 
tea  returned,  and  the  final  refusal  of  the  governor  tb  interfere 
was  received,  it  was  immediately  made  known  to  them,  and 
they  proceeded  at  once  to  throw  the  obnoxious  merchandise 
into  the  water.  This  was  done  with  as  much  good  order  and 
regularity,  as  if  the  tea  had  been  discharged  in  the  ordinary 
way.  The  chests  were  hoisted  upon  the  decks,  broken  open, 
and  their  contents  emptied  over  the  side  of  the  ship  into  \\\p 
channel.  A  large  crowd  of  people  was  collected,  who  were 
quiet  spectators  of  the  operation,  which  was  completed  in  the 
course  of  the  evening ;  and  after  the  work  was  finished,  the 
actors  and  spectators  calmly  retired  to  their  several  home?. 

**^'**— ^— ^■^■^■^^^— ^>*^— — ■  ■■  ■■■    ■■■■■—I.       ■  ■  ■■J—— — II    .^ipi  I  !■■■■— —^^^a^^^^i^—     I         I         I     II     iiwMiiM.  w  ,,    <<a 

How  many  persons  wore  engaged  in  throwing  overboard  tho  tea  in 
Boston  harbor  ?     , 


876 


FIRST  AMERICAN  CONGRESS. 


n.  Of  all  the  tea,  which  was  three  hundred  and  forty-two 
chests,  the  whole  quantity  saved  is  contained  in  a  small  phial 
still  in  existence.  One  of  the  operators,  on  his  return  home, 
found  his  shoes  filled  with  it ;  this  he  put  into  a  bottle,  and 
sealed  up.  Not  a  pound  of  the  tea  was  purloined.  One  of 
the  persons  engaged  in  the  business,  who  wished  to  preserve 
too  large  a  specimen,  was  observed  by  some  of  his  compa- 
nions to  have  the  pockets  of  his  coat  a  little  distended.  This 
was  treated  as  an  accident,  which  was  remedied,  however,  in 
a  good  natured  way,  without  resistance,  by  the  application  of 
a  knife  across  the  waist  of  the  coat,  which  left  a  kind  of  gar- 
ment, that  has,  in  later  times,  been  called  a  spencer,  and  the 
part  separated  was  thrown  overboard  to  accompany  its  kin- 
dred tea.  The  most  scrupulous  care  was  taken  that  none 
of  it  should  be  secreted*  The  shores  of  the  harbor,  at  high 
water  mark,  were  lined  with  it  the  next  day,  as  with  other 
worthless  weeds.  A  chest,  containing  a  few  pounds,  floated 
into  a  creek  in  Dorchester,  where  it  was  discovered,  brought 
into  town,  and  publicly  committed  to  the  flames. 


FIRST  AMERICAN  CONGRESS. 

From  the  Vision  of  Columbits. 

r, 

CoLtJMBifs  look'd  ;  and  still  around  them  spread, 
From  south  to  porth,  th'  immeasurable  shade ; 
At  last,  the  central  shadows  burst  away, 
And  rising  regions  open'd  on  the  day. 
He  saw,  once  more,  bright  DelVar^'s  silver  stream, 
And  Penn*s  through  city  cast  a  cheerful  gleam ; 
The  dome  of  state,  that  met  his  eager  eye. 
Now  heav'd  its  arches  in  a  loftier  sky. 
The  bursting  gates  unfold — and  lo,  within, 
A  solemn  train,  in  conscious  glory,  shine. 
The  well-known  forms  his  eye  had  tracM  before, 
In  difl"  'rent  realms  along  th*  extended  shore ; 
Here  gracM  with  nobler  fame,  and  rob'd  in  state. 
They  TookM  and  mov*d  magnificently  great. 

How  much  tea  was  there  thrown  overboard  ?    Is  any  of  it  still  pre« 
Mnrad  ? — How  came  it  to  be  preserved  ? 


FIRST  AMERICAN  CONGRESS. 

High  on  the  foremost  seat,  in  living  light, 
Majestic  Randolph  caught  the  hero's  sight — 
Fair  on  his  head,  the  civic  crown  was  plac'd, 
And  the  first  dignity  his  sceptre  grac'd. 
He  opes  the  cause,  and  points  in  prospect  far, 
Through  all  the  toils  that  wait  th'  impending  war, 
But,  hapless  sage,  thy  reign  must  soon  be  o'er, 
To  lend  thy  lustre,  and  to  shine  no  more. 
So  the  bright  morning  star,  from  shades  of  ev'n, 
Leads  up  the  dawn,  and  lights  the  front  of  heav'n, 
Points  to  the  waking  woild  the  sun's  broad  way, 
Then  veils  his  own,  and  shines  above  the  day* 
And  see  great  Washington  behind  thee  rise. 
Thy  following  sun,  to  gild  our  morning  skies ; 
O'er  shadowy  climes  to  pour  th'  enliv'ning  fhune 
The  charms  of  freedom  and  the  fire  of  fame. 
Th'  ascending  chief  adom'd  his  splendid  seat,. 
Like  Randolph,  ehsign'd  with  a  crown  of  state, 
Where  the  green  patriot  bay  beheld,  with  pride. 
The  hero's  laurel  springing  by  its  side ; 
His  sword  hung  useless,  on  his  graceful  thigh. 
On  Britain  still  he  cast  a  filial  eye ; 
But  sovereign  fortitude  his  visage  bore, 
To  meet  their  legions  on  th'  invaded  shore « 

Sage  Franklin  next  arose,  in  awful  mien, 
And  smil'd,  unruffled,  o'er  th'  approaching  scene ; 
High,  on  his  locks  of  age,  a  wreath  was  brac'd, 
Palm  of  all  arts,  that  e'er  a  mortal  grac'd  ; 
Beneath  him  He  the  sceptres  kings  have  borne, 
And  crowns  and  laurels  from  their  temples  torn. 
Nashf  Rutledge,  Jefferson,  in  council  great. 
And  Jay  and  Laurens  op'd  the  rolls  of  fate. 
The  Livingstons,  fair  freedom's  generous  band, 
The  Le^s,  the  Houstons,  fathers  of  the  land^ 
O'er  climes  and  kingdoms  turn'd  their  ardent  eyes, 
Bade  all  th'  oppress'd  to  speedy  vengeance  rise ; 
All  powers  of  state,  in  their  extended  plan, 
Rise  from  consent  to  shield  the  rights  of  man. 
Bold  Wolcott  urg'd  the  all-important  cause ; 
With  steady  hand  the  solemn  scene  he  draws ;  ^ 


2T? 


up 


mm 


278 


BATTLE  OF  BUNKER'S  HILL. 


Undaunted  firmness  with  his  wisdom  join*d, 

Nor  kings  nor  worlds  could  warp  his  steadfast  mind. 

Now,  graceful  rising  from  his  purple  throne 
In  radiant  robes,  immortal  Hosmer  shone  ; 
Myrtles  and  bays  his  learned  temples  bound, 
The  statesman's  wreath,  the  poet's  garland  crown'd — 
Morals  and  laws  expand  his  liberal  soul, 
Beam  from  his  eyes,  and  in  his  accents  roll. 
But  lo  !  an  unseen  hand  the  curtain  drew ; 
And  snatch'd  the  patriot  from  the  hero's  view ; 
Wrapp'd  in  the  shroud  of  death,  he  sees  descend 
The  guide  of  nations  and  the  muse's  friend. 
Columbus  dropp'd  a  tear.     The  angel's  eye 
Trac'd  the  freed  spirit  mounting  through  the  sky. 

*  Adams,  enrag'd,  a  broken  charter  bore, 
And  lawless  acts  of  ministerial  power ; 
Some  injur'd  right  in  each  loose  leaf  appears, 
A  king  in  terrors  and  a  land  in  tears ; 
From  all  the  guileful  plots  the  veil  he  drew, 
With  eye  retortive  look'd  creation  through ; 
Op'd  the  wide  range  of  nature's  boundless  plan, 
Trac'd  all  the  steps  of  liberty  and  man  ; 
Crowds  rose  to  vengeance  while  his  accents  rung, 
And  Independence  thunder'd  from  his  tongue. 


BATTLE  OF  BUNKER'S  HILL. 

1.  Whtsthbr  he  was  deceived  by  the  resemblance  of 
name,  or  from  some  other  motive  unknown,  colonel  Prescott, 
instead  of  repairing  to  the  heights  of  Bunker's  Hill,  to  forti- 
fy himself  there,  advanced  further  on  in  the  peninsula,  and 
immediately  commenced  his  intrenchments  uiK)n  the  heights 
of  Breed's  Hill,  another  eminence,  which  overlooks  Charles- 
town,  and  is  situated  towards  *ho  extremity  of  the  peninsula, 
nearer  to  Boston.  The  works'  were  pushed*  with  so  much 
ardor,  that  the  following  morning,  by  day  break,  the  Ameri- 


Wliy  was  Breed's  Hill  fortified  instead  of  Bunker's  Hill 


BATTLE  OF  BUNKER'S  MILL. 


279 


eans  had  already  constructed  a  square  redoubt,  capable  of 
aflfording  them  some  shelter  from  the  enemy's  fire.  The  la* 
bor  had  been  conducted  with  such  silence,  that  the  English 
had  no  suspicion  of  what  was  passing.  It  was  about  four  in 
the  morning,  when  the  captain  of  a  ship  of  war  first  per* 
ceived  it,  and  began  to  play  his  artillery.  The  report  of  the 
cannon  attracted  a  multitude  of  spectators  to  the  shore. 

2.  The  English  generals  doubted  the  testimony  of  their 
senses.  Meanwhile  the  thing  appeared  too  important  not  to 
endeavor  to  dislodge  the  provincials,  or,  at  least,  to  prevent 
them  from  completing  the  fb/tification  commenced  ;  for,  as 
the  height  of  Breed's  Hill  absolutely  commands  Boston,  the 
town  was  no  lotiger  tenable,  if  the  Americans  erected  a  bat- 
tery upon  this  eminence.  The  English,  therefore^  opened  d 
general  fire  of  the  artillery  of  the  town,  of  the  fleet,  and  of 
the  floating  batteries  stationed  around  the  peninsulas  of  Bos- 
ton. It  hailed  a  tempest  of  bombs  and  hs\\»  upon  the  work« 
of  the  Americans — they  were  especially  incommoded  by  the 
fire  of  a  battery  planted  upon  an  eminence  named  Cop's  Hill, 
which,  situated  within  the  town,  forms  a  species  of  tower  in 
front  of  Breed's  Hill.  But  all  this  was  without  effect.  The 
Americans  continued  to  work  the  whole  day,  with  unshaken 
constancy ;  and  towards  night,  they  had  already  much  ad- 
vanced a  trench,  which  descended  from  the  redoubt  to  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  and  almost  to  the  bank  of  Mystic  river. 
The  fury  of  the  enemy's  artillery,  it  is  true,  had  prevented 
them  from  carrying  it  to  perfection. 

3.  In  this  conjuncture,  there  remained  no  other  hope  for 
the  English  geneials,  but  in  attempting  an  assault,  to  drive 
the  Americans,  by  dint  of  force,  from  this  formidable  posi- 
tion.    This  resolution  was  taken  without  hesitation  ;  and  it 

¥ 

was  followed,  the  17th  of  June,  1775,  by  the  action  of 
Breed's  Hill,  known  also  by  the  name  of  Bunker's  Hill ; 
much  renowned  for  the  intrepidity,  not  to  say  the  temerity, 
of  the  parties  ;  for  th6  number  of  the  dead  and  wounded; 
and  for  the  effect  it  produced  upon  the  opiniotis  of  men,  in 
regard  to  the  valor  of  the  Americans  and  the  probable  issue 
of  the  whole  war.  ' 

4.  Between  mid-day  and  one  o'clock,  the  heat  being  in- 


Why  were  the  English  so  desirous  tm  dislodge  the  Americans  from 
Breed's  Hill  ?— When  was  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill  fought  ? 

126 


mmmmmm 


BATTLE  OF  BUNKER^S  HILL. 

tense,  all  was  motion  in  the  British  camp.  A  multitude  of 
sloops  and  boats,  filled  with  soldiers,  left  the  shore  of  Boston, 
and  stood  for  Charlestown ;  they  landed  at  Moreton's  Point, 
without  meeting  resistance ;  as  the  ships  of  war  and  armed 
vessels  effectually  iprolected  the  debarcation  with  the  fire  of 
their  artillery,  which  forced  the  enemy  to  keep  within  his  in> 
trenchments.  This  corps  consisted  of  ten  companies  of 
grenadiers,  as  many  of  light-infantry,  and  a  proportionate 
artillery ;  the  whole  under  the  command  of  major-general 
Howe,  and  brigadier  general  Pigot.  The  troops,  on  landing, 
began  to  display,  the  light  infantry  upon  the  right,  the  grena- 
diers upou  the  lefl ;  but,  having  observed  the  strength  of  the 
()Osition,  and  the  good  countenance  of  the  Americans,  ge- 
neral Howe  made  a  halt,  and  sent  to  call  a  teinforcemept. 

5.  The  English  formed  themselves  in  two  columns. 
Their  plan  was,  that  the  lefl  wing,,  under  general  Pigot, 
should  attack  the  provincials  in  Charlestown ;  while  the  cen- 
tre assaulted  the  redoubt ;  and  the  right  wing,  consisting  of 
light-infantry,  should  force  the  passage  near  the  river  Mystic, 
and  thus  assail  the  Americans  in  flank  and  rear ;  which 
would  give  the  English  complete  victory.  It  appears,  also, 
that  General  Gage  had  formed  the  design  of  setting  fire  to 
Charlestown,  when  evacuated  by  the  e^emy,  in  order  that 
the  corps,  destined  to  assail  the  redoubt,  thus  protected  by 
the  flame  and  smoke,  might  be  less  es!posed  to  the  fire  of  the 
provincials.  ^^r 

6.  The  dispositions  having  been  all  completed,  the  Engr 
lish  put  themselves  in  motion.  The  provincials,  that  were 
stationed  to  defend  Charlestowu,  fearing  lest  the  assailants 
should  penetrate  between  this  town  and  the  redoubt,  and 
thus  to  find  themselves  cut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  army,  re- 
treated. The  English  immediately  entered  the  town,  and 
fired  the  buildings — as  they  were  of  wood,  in  a  moment  the 
combustion  became  general.  They  continued  a  slow  march 
against  the  redoubt  and  trench ;  halting,  from  time  to  time, 
for  the  artillery  to  come  up,  and  act  with  some  effect,  previous 
to  the  assault.  The  flames  and  smoke  of  Charlestown  were 
of  no  use  to  them,  as  the  wind  turned  them  in  a' contrary 
direction. 

7.  Their  gradual  advance,  and  the  extreme  clearness  of 


Why  were  the  English  induced  to  bam  Charlestown : 


i^^" 


f^mm 


BATTLE  OF  BUNKER'S  HILL. 


3»] 


the  air,  permitted  the  Americans  to  level  their  muskets. 
They,  however,  suffered  the  enemy  to  approach,  before  they 
commenced  their  fire;  and  waited  for  t^e  assault  in  pro- 
found tranquillity.  It  would  be  difficult  to  paint  the  scene 
of  terror  presented  by  these  circumstances.  A  large  town, 
all  enveloped  in  flames,  which,  excited  by  a  violent  wind, 
rose  to  an  immense  height,  and  spread  every  moment  more 
and  more ;  an  innumerable  multitude,  rushing  from  all  parts, 
to  witness  so  unusual  a  spectacle,  and  see  the  issue  of  the 
sanguinary  conflict  that  was  about  to  commence.  The  Bosh 
tottians,  and  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  not  in  actual  service, 
were  mounted  upon  the  spires,  upon  the  roofs,  and  upon  the 
heights.  The  hills,  and  circumjacent  fields,  from  which  the 
dread  arena  could  be  viewed  in  safety,  were  covered  with 
swarms  of  spectators,  of  every  rank,  and  age,  and  sex  ;  each 
agitated  by  fear  or  hope,  according  to  the  party  he  espoused. 

8.  The  English  having  advanced  within  reach  of  the 
nmsketry,  the  Americans  showered  upon  them  a  volley  of 
bullets.  This  terrible  fire  was  so  well  supported,  and  so 
well  directed,  that  the  ranks  of  the  assailants  were  soon 
thinned  and  broken— 4hey  retired,  in  disorder,  to  the  place 
of  their  landing — some  threw  themselves  precipitately  into 
the  boats.  The  field  of  battle  was  covered  with  the  slain. 
The  officers  were  seen  running  hither  and  thither,  with  pro- 
mises, with  exhortations,  and  with  menaces,  attempting  to 
rally  the  soldiers,  and  inspirit  them  for  a  second  attack.  Fi- 
nally, afl;er  the  most  painful  eflbrts,  they  resumed  their  ranks, 
and  marched  up  to  the  enemy.  The  Americans  reserved 
their  fire,  as  before^  until  their  approach,  and  received  them 
with  the  same  deluge  of  balls.  The  English^  overwhelmed 
and  routed,  again  fled  to  the  shore.  In  this  perilous  mo- 
ment, Genieral  Howe  remained  for  some  time  alone  upon  the 
field  of  battle — all  the  officers,  who  surrounded  him,  were 
killed  or  wounded.  It  is  related,  that>  at  this  critical  con- 
juncture, upon  which  depended  the  issue  of  the  day.  Gene- 
ral Clinton,  who,  from  Cop's  Hill,  examined  all  the  move- 
ments, on  seeing  the  destruction  of  his  troops,  immediately 
resolved  to  fly  to  their  succor. 

9.  This  experienced  commander,  by  an  able  movement, 
re-established  order,;  and,  seconded  by  the  officers,  who  fell 
all  the  importance  of  success  to  English  honor  and  the  course 


mmmmmm 


289 


BATTLE  OF  BUNKER'S  HILL. 


of  events,  he  led  the  troops  to  a  third  attack.  It  was  direct 
ed  against  the  redoubt,  at  three  several  points.  The  artil- 
lery of  the  ships  not  only  prevented  all  reinforcements  from 
coming  to  the  Americans,  by  the  isthmus  of  Charlestown, 
but  even  uncovered^,  and  swept  the  interior  of  the  trench, 
which  was  battered  in  front  at  the  same  time.  The  ammu- 
nition of  the  Americans  was  nearly  exhausted,  and  they 
could  have  no  hopes  of  a  recruit.  Their  fire  must,  of  ne- 
cessity, languish.  Meanwhile,  the  English  had  advanced 
to  the  foot  of  the  redoubt.  The  provincials,  destitute  of 
bayonets,  defended  themselves  valiantly  with  the  butt  end 
of  their  muskets.  But  the  redoubt  being  already  full  of  ene- 
mies, the  American  general  gave  the  signal,  of  retreat,  and 
drew  off  his  men. 

10.  While  the  left  wing  and  centre  of  the  English  army 
were  thus  engaged,  the  light  infantry  had  impetuously  at- 
tacked the  palisades,  which  the  provincials  had  erected  in 
haste,  upon  the  bank  of  the  river  Mystic.  On  the  one  side, 
and  on  the  other,  the  combat  was  obstinate;  and  if  the  as- 
sault was  furious,  the  resistance  was  not  feeble.  In  spite  of 
all  the  efforts  of  the  royal  troops,  the  provincials  still  main- 
tained the  battle  in  this  part ;  and  had  no  thoughts  of  retir- 
ing, until  tiioy  saw  the  redoubt  and  upper  part  of  the  trench 
were  iu  the  power  of  the  enemy.  Their  retreat  was  execut- 
ed with  an  order  not  to  have  been  expected  from  new  levied 
soldiers.  This  strenuous  resistance  of  the  left  wing  of  the 
American  army  was,  in  effect,  the  salvation  of  the  rest ;  for, 
if  it  had  given  ground  but  a  few  instants  sooner,  the  ene- 
my's light  infantry  would  have  taken  the  main  body  and 
right  wing  in  the  rear,  and  their  situation  would  have  been 
hopeless. 

11.  But  the  Americans  had  not  yet  reached  the  term  of 
thfeir  toils  and  dangers.  The  only  way  that  remained  of  re- 
treat, was  by  the  isthmus  of  Charlestown ;  and  the  English 
had  placed  there  a  ship  of  war  and  two  floating  batteries,  the 
balls  of  which  raked  every  part  of  it.  The  Americans,  how* 
over,  issued  from  the  peninsula,  without  any  considerable 
loss.  It  was  during  the  retreat,  that  Dr.  Warren  received 
his  death.    Finding  the  corps  he  commanded  hotly  pursued 

How  many  times  did  tho  English  approach  the  redoubt  before  they 
drove  the  Americans  from  it  ? 


I 


^m 


*i^ 


BATTLE  OP  BUNKER'S  HILL. 


iMI 


by  the  enemy,  despising  all  danger,  he  stood  alone  befbrci 
the  ranks,  endeavoring  to  rally  his  troops,  and  to  encou 
rage  them  by  his  own  example.  He  reminded  them  of  the 
mottos  inscribed  on  their  ensigns ;  on  one  side  of  which 
were  these  words — *'An  appeal  to  Heaven ;"  and  on  the 
other — "  Q.ui  transtulit,  sustmet ;"  meaning,  the  same  Pro- 
vidence which  brought  their  ancestors  through  so  many 
perils,  to  a  place  of  refuge,  would  also  deign  to  support  theii 
descendants. 

12.  An  English  officer  perceived  Dr.  Warren,  and  knew 
him ;  he  borrowed  the  musket  of  one  of  his  soldiers,  and  hit 
him  with  a  ball,  either  in  the  head  or  in  the  breast.  He  fell 
dead  upon  the  spot  The  Americans  were  apprehensive 
lest  the  English,  availing  themselves  of  victory,  should  sally 
out  of  the  peninsula,  and  attack  the  head-quarters  at  Cam* 
bridge.  But  they  contented  themselves  with  taking  posses- 
sion of  Bunker's  Hill,  where  they  entrenched  themselves,  in 
order  to  guard  the  entrance  of  the  neck  against  any  new 
enterprise  on  the  part  of  the  enemy.  The  provincials,  hav- 
ing the  same  suspicion,  fortified  Prospect  Hill,  which  is  situ- 
ated at  the  mouth  of  the  isthnms,  on  the  side  of  the  main 
land.  But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  were  disposed  ta 
hazard  any  new  movement ;  the  first,  discouraged  by  the' loss 
of  so  many  men,  and  the  second,  by  that  of  the  field  of  bat^ 
tie,  and  the  peninsula.  The  provincials  had  to  regret  five 
pieces  of  cannon,  with  a  great  number  of  utensils,  emptey- 
ed  in  fortification,  and  no  little  camp  equipage. 

13.  General  Howe  was  greatly  blamed  by  some,  for  hav- 
ing chosen  to  attack  the  Americans,  by  directing  his  battery 
in  front  against  the  fortifications  upon  Breed's  Hill,  and  the 
trench  that  descended  towards  the  sea,  on  the  part  of  Mystic 
river.  It  was  thought,  that  if  he  had  landed  a  respectable 
detachment  upon  the  isthmus  of  Charlestown,  an  operation, 
which  the  assistance  of  the  ships  of  war  and  floating  batter 
ries  would  have  rendered  perfectly  easy  to  him,  it'would 
have  compelled  the  Americans  to  evacuate  the  peninsula, 
without  the  necessity  of  coming  to  a  sanguinary  engagement 
They  would  thus,  in  effect,  have  been  deprived  of  all  com- 
munication with  their  camp,  situated  without  the  peninsula ; 


1 


How  came  Dr.  Warren  by  his  death  ? — In  what  important  partitni- 
lar  l^M  it  been  thought  that  general  Howe  erred  ? 


384 


BURNING  OF  CHARLESTOWN. 


and,  on  the  part  of  the  sea,  they  could  have  hoped  for  no  re> 
treat,  as  it  was  commanded  by  the  English. 

14.  In  this  mode,  the  desired  object  would,  therefore, 
have  been  obtained  without  the  sacrifice  of  men.  Such,  it 
is  said,  was  the  plan  of  general  Clinton ;  but  it  was  rejected, 
so  great  was  the  confidence  reposed  in  the  bravery  and  dis- 
cipline of  the  English  soldiers,  and  in  the  cowardice  of  the 
Americans.  The  first  of  these  opinions  was  not,  in  truth, 
without  foundation  ;  but  the  second  was  absolutely  chimeri- 
cal, and  evinced  more  of  intellectual  darkness  in  the  Eng- 
lish, than  of  prudence,  and  just  notions  upon  a  state  of  things. 
By  this  fatal  error,  the  bravery  of  the  Americans  was  con- 
firmed ;  the  English  army  debilitated ;  the  spirit  of  the  sol- 
diers, and  perhaps  the  final  event  of  the  whole  contest,  de- 
cided. 


BURNING  OF  CHARLESTOWN. 

1.  The  horror  of  the  scene  of  Bunker's  Hill  was  incre&s> 
ed  by  the  conflagration  of  Charlestown,  effected  during  the 
heat  of  the  battle,  by  the  orders  of  Gen.  Gage.  Charlestown, 
besides  two  hundred  other  buildings,  contained,  at  that  time, 
six  public  edifices,  and  about  four  hundred  dwelling  houses. 
In  justification  of  this  wanton  act  of  barbarity,  it  was  given 
out,  that  the  American  troops  had  stationed  themselves  in 
these  bi^ildings,  and  under  their  covert  successfully  annoyed 
their  enemies.  The  truth  is,  there  were  no  American 
troops  in  the  town^  What  may  have  been  the  motives  which 
produced  the  devastation,  it  is  impossible  to  determine. 

2.  It  may  have  been  the  indulgence  of  revenge ;  or  an 
intention  to  strike  terror  into  the  Americans^  and  to  teach 
them,  that  their  towns  were  universally  destined  to  the 
flames.  It  may  have  been  an  expectation  of  adding  to  the 
confusion  of  the  day,  and  of  giving  in  this  manner  a  favora- 
ble issue  to  the  conflict.  Whatever  was  the  motive,  it  is 
probable,  that  the  buildings  were  regarded  as  belonfflng  to 
the  rebels,  and  as  being,  therefore,  of  little  value.  Bat  this 
act  was  unnecessary,  useless,  and  wanton  ;    and  roust  attach 

By  whose  orders  was  Charlestown  burnt  ^ — How  many  buiMings 
4id  it  contain  ? — What  was  the  alleged  reason  for  burning  it  ? 


mmm 


BURNING  OF  CHARLESTOWN. 


S85 


Tf 


to  the  authors  of  it  perpetual  infamy.  Two  thousand  people 
were  in  a  moment  deprived  of  their  habitations,  furniture, 
and  other  necessaries  ;  and  property,  amounting  to  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  thousand  pounds  sterling,  perished  in  the 
flames. 

3.  Nor  was  this  conflagration  less  unwise,  than  wicked. 
Instead  of  terror,  it  excited  only  rage — instead  of  producing 
submission,  it  roused  a  more  determined  hostility.  The  at- 
tack in  the  field  was  such  as  war  authorizes ;  was  on  men, 
and  on  soldiers ;  and  could  be  easily  forgotten.  Here  the 
assault  was  made  on  the  man  of  grey,  hairs,  the  defenceless 
female,  and  the  cradled  infant.  It  edged  therefore  a  resent* 
ment,  already  keen — a  breach,  which  before  was  wide,  it 
rendered  immeasurable. 

4.  In  Europe,  where  events  of  this  nature  have  received  a 
dreadful  kind  of  justification  from  immemorial  custom,  towns 
and  cities  perish,. and  their  inhabitants  are  consigned  to 
ruin,  without  resentment  or  surprise.  Scarcely  a  sigh  is 
breathed,  or  a  tear  falls,  at  the  r  utal  of  the  melancholy  tale.. 
But  America  was  in  her  youth ;  and  the  scene  was  here  a 
novelty.  The  genuine  emotions  of  nature,  approved  by  rea-. 
son,  and  founded  in  truth,  sprang  up,  therefore,  instinctively 
in  every  bosom.  On  the  soundest  principles,  every  man, 
when  he  heard  the  story,  determined  that  no  plea  could  be 
alleged  for  this  piece  of  cruelty.  The  sufferings  of  the  in- 
habitants he  regarded  with  intense  pity,  and  the  authors  of 
them  with  loathing  and  horror. 

5.  But  unjust  and  unworthy,  as  the  burning  of  Charles- 
town  was,  its  flames  wonderfully  enhanced  the  dreadful  mag- 
nificence of  the  day.  To  the  vollies  of  musketry,  and  the 
roar  of  cannon  ;  to  the  shouts  of  the  fighting,  and  the  groans 
of  the  dying;  to  the  dark  and  awful  atmosphere  of  smoke, 
enveloping  the  whole  peninsula,  and  illumined  in  every  quar- 
ter by  the  streams  Of  fire  from  the  various  instruments  of 
death,  the  conflagration  of  six  hundred  buildings  added  a 
gloomy  and  amazing  grandeur.  In  the  midst  of  this  waving 
lake  of  flame,  the  lofly  steeple,  converted  into  a  blazing  py- 
ramid of  fire,  towered,  and  trembled  over  the  vast  pyre ;  pnd 
finished  the  scene  of  desolation. 


Was  the  burning  of  Charlestown  favorable  to  the  British  P 


1»B 


GENERAL  LYMAN. 
GENERAL   LYMAN. 


1.  Few  Americans  have  a  better  claim  to  the  remem- 
brance of  posterity,  than  major-general  Phinehas  Lyman,  of 
Suffield,  Connecticut ;  and  the  history  of  few  men,  who  have 
been  natives  of  it,  can  be  more  interesting.  He  graduated 
at  Yale  College,  in  1738,  aged  twenty-two  years.  When  a 
senior  sophister,  he  /vas  chosen  one  of  the  Berkleian  scho- 
lars, and  in  1739  was  appointed  a  tutor.  In  this  office  he 
continued  three  year?  with  much  reputation.  He  then 
devoted  himself  to  the  profession  of  the  law,  in  which  he 
soon  became  eminent.  In  1755,  he  was  appointed  major 
general  and  commander-in-chief  of  the  Connecticut  forces : 
and  he  held  this  office  until  the  Canadian  war  was  ended. 
He  then  went  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  American  troops 
in  the  expedition  to  the  Havanna,  in  the  year  1762.  In  all 
these  employments  he  rendered  important  services  to  his 
country ;  and  acquired  a  high  reputation  for  wisdom,  integ.> 
rity,  bravery,  military  skill,  and  every  honorable  character- 
istic of  r.  soldier. 

2.  During  the  v^hoie  course  of  the  war,  besides  the  high 
testimony  given  to  his  worth  by  the  state,  he  received  many 
others ;  particularly  from  the  British  officers  who  were  his 
companions  in  service ;  by  several  of  whom  he  was  holden 
in  peculiar  esteem.  By  these  gentlemen  he  was  so  advan- 
tageously spoken  of  in  Great  Britain,  that  an  invitation  was 
given  him  by  some  persons  in  high  office  to  visit  that  coun- 
try.— A  company  had  been  formed,  by  his  exertions,  under 
the  name  of  Military  Adventurers ;  composed  chiefly  of  such 
as  had  been  officers,  during  the  preceding  war.  Their  ob- 
ject was  to  obtain  from  the  British  government  a  considera- 
ble tract  of  land,  bordering  on  the  rivers  Mississippi  and 
Yazoo— on  this  tract  they  proposed  to  plant  themselves,  and 
as  large  a  colony  of  their  countrymen  as  they  could  induce 
to  join  them.  General  Lyinan  went  to  England  as  agent 
for  this  company  ;  and  entertained  not  a  doubt,  that  his  ap- 
plication would  be  immediately  successful. 

S  Soon  after  his  arrival,  his  owii  friends  in  the  ministry  were 
removed.     Those  who  succeeded  them,  had  other  friends  to 


Where  did  general  Lyman  live  before  leaving  Connecticut  ? — Whftt 
induced  him  to  go  to  England  ? 


^ipn 


^W 


iwi 


GENERAL  LYMAN. 


287 


»  the  remem- 
as  Lyman,  of 
len,  who  have 
He  graduated 
ars.    When  a 
erkleian  scho- 
I  this  office  he 
n.      He  then 
,  in  which  he 
)ointed  major 
Bcticut  forces ; 
irar  was  ended, 
merican  troops 
•1762.    In  ail 
lervices  to  his 
wisdom,  integ-. 
able  character- 

esides  the  high 
received  many 
s  who  were  his 
he  was  holden 
was  so  advan- 
1  invitation  was 
visit  that  coun- 
xertions,  under 
chiefly  of  such 
l^ar.     Their  ob- 
nt  a  considera- 
Mississippi  and 
lemselves,  and 
y  could  induce 
gland  as  agent 
ibt,  that  his  ap- 

le  ministry  were 
other  friends  to 

mecticut  ?— -Whnt 


mrovide  for ;  and  found  it  convenient  to  forget  his  services. 
For  a  while,  his  open  heart  admitted  the  encouragements 
given  to  him  in  London  ;  and  charitably  construed  the  spe- 
cious reasons,  alleged  for  successive  delays,  in  the  most  fa- 
vorable manner.    After  dragging  several  tedious  years  in  the 
melancholy  employment  of  listening  to  court  promises,  he 
found,  in  spite  of  all  his  preconceptions,  that  the  men,  with 
whom  his  business  lay,  trifled  alike  with  his  interests  and 
their  own  integrity.     Shocked  &t  the  degradation  which  he 
must  sustain,  by  returning  to  his  own  country  without  ac- 
complishing his  design,  and  of  appearing  as  a  dupe  of  court 
hypocrisy,  where  he  had  never  appeared  but  with  dignity  and 
honor,  he  probably,  though  liot  without  many  struggles,  re- 
solved to  lay  his  bones  in  Britain.     But,  after  eleven  of  the 
best  years  of  his  life  being  frittered  away  in  this  man  nor,  the 
tract  of  land  in  question  was  granted  to  the  petitioners,  and 
he  was  induced  to  revisit  his  native  country.     Many  of  the 
petitioners,  however,  were  in  the  grave  ^  others  were  already 
hoary  with  age  ;  and  all  of  them  were  removed  beyond  that 
period  of  life,  at  which  men  are  willing  to  plant  themselves 
in  a  wilderness,  lying  under  a  new  climate,  and  a  thousand 
miles  from  their  homes. 

4.  His  return  to  Connecticut  was  in  1774,  where  he  re- 
mained a  short  time,  and  then  with  his  eldest  son,  and  a  few 
companions,  embarked  for  the  Mississippi  to  make  some  pre- 
paration for  the  reception  of  his  family,  who  were  soon  to 
follow.  Accordingly  the  family,  together  with  a  small  num- 
ber of  their  friends,  in  the  following  year,  was  planted  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Natches ;  a  town  originally  built  by  the 
French  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Mississippi,  one  hundred 
and  eighty  miles  north  of  New  Orleans  by  land,  and  twice 
that  distance  by  water.  The  little  colony  remained  in  this 
place  till  the  breaking  out  of  the  Spanish  v/ar  in  1781,  when 
hearing  that  an  armed  ftrce  was  ascending  the  river,  they 
resolved  to  seek  their  flight  through  an  immense  wilderness, 
inhabited  by  savages,  to  Savannah  in  Georgia,  the  nearest 
post  in  the  possession  of  the  English.  From  the  Spaniards 
•"  they  had  every  thing  to  fear.     A  flight  through  the  wilder- 


How  long  did  General  Lyman  remain  in  England  ? — Where  did 
I  and  hia  family  settle  on  leavinsr  Conntctictt  P — Why  o-.J  wb«n 


hb 

did  they  i«ave  Nntches  * 


hy 


nr^ 


UlHIjI^i     'tpi 


388 


GENERAL  LYMAN. 


ness  involved  distresses  without  number ;  but  presented  a 
possibility  of  safety.  These  unfortunate  people  determined, 
therefore,  to  attempt  it  without  hesitation.  But  they  wan- 
dered before  reaching  Savannah  one  hundred  and  forty-nine 
days,  and,  according  to  their  reckoning,  more  than  one  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 

5.  The  dangers  and  hardships,  which  they  encountered  in 
their  progress,  resembled  more  the  adventures  of  knight-er- 
rantry, than  the  occurrences  of  real  Jife.  The  caravan  was 
numerous ;  including  women  and  children,  as  well  as  men — 
some  of  the  children  infants  at  the  breast.  They  were  all 
mounted  on  horseback  ;  but  the  ruggedness  of  the  ground 
obliged  such  as  were  able  to  walk,  to  make  a  great  part  of 
their  way  on  foot.  The  country  through  which  they  passed 
was  intersected  by  numerous,  and  those  often  broad  and 
deep,  rivers.  Steep  and  lofty  mountains,  equally  difficult  to 
ciiml;.  and  to  descend,  obstructed  their  path.  Marshes  im- 
passwijje  forced  them  to  take  long  tedious  circuits.  The 
rivei  d  they  were  obliged  to  swim  on  horseback ;  and  in  at- 
tempting to  cross  one  of  them,  several  of  their  number  had 
well  nigh  perished.  Their  sulfferings  from  the  dread  of  wild 
beasts  and  savages  were  incessant.  The  Choctaws,  through 
whose  territory,  and  along  whose  borders,  their  journey  lay 
for  a  great  extent,  had  espoused  the  Spanish  interest ;  and 
of  course  become  their  enemies — and  from  Indian  enemies 
no  concealment,  no  speed,  no  distance,  can  furnish  safety. 
The  most  quiet,  the  Liost  secure  moments,  are,  like  the  si- 
lence before  a  stroke  of  lightning,  a  mere  prelude  to  danger 
and  death. 

6.  Famine  also,  threatened  them  in  their  best  circum- 
stances ;  and  frequently  stared  them  in  the  face.  Once  they 
were  reduced  to  their  last  morsel.  Often  they  suffered  in- 
tensely from  thirst.  In  one  instance,  when  both  they  and 
their  hjjjrses  were  nearly  famished,  a  lady  who  was  of  their 
company,  wandered  'n  search  of  water  some  distance  from 
their  encampment ;  and  found  a  small  spot,  which  exhibited 
on  its  surface  a  degree  of  moisture.  She  scraped  away  the 
earth  with  her  hands  ;  and,  having  hollowed  out  a  basin  of 
considerable  size,  saw  it  soon  partially  filled  with  about  a 


What  was  the  distance  of  the  route  of  General  Lyman  and  his  fa- 
mily to  Savaunah ' — How  lon^  wore  they  performinf;  it  ? 


im^m 


GENERAL  LYMAN. 


289 


quart  of  perfectly  pure  and  sweet  water.  Having  assuag- 
ed her  own  thirst,  she  called  the  rest  of  the  company ; 
who,  together  with  their  hordes,  all  drank  at  this  little  spot, 
until  they  were  satisfied;  the  water  returning  regularly  to 
the  same  height,  as  soon  as  it  was  exhausted..  It  ought  not 
to  be  forgotten,  that  disease  attacked  them  in  various  in- 
stances ;  and  obliged  those  who  were  well,  to  halt  for  the 
recovery  of  the  sick. 

7.  One  instance  of  the  perilous  situation  in  which  they 
were  placed  deserves  particular  notice.  About  two  days  b<> 
fore  they  reached  the  first  village  of  the  Creeks,  which  was 
on  their  way,  their  provisions  were  exhausted.  As  th6y  had 
lived  for  some  time  on  a  scanty  allowance,  many  of  them  had 
lost  both  their  strength  and  spirits.  How  long  it  would  be 
before  a  new  supply  could  be  obiained,  it  was  impossible  to 
determine.  In  this  situation,  those  who  suffered  most  se- 
verely, gave  themselves  up  to  despair ;  and,  pronouncing  all 
further  efforts  fruitless,  concluded  to  die  on  the  spot.  It  was 
with  no  small  difficulty,  that  their,  more  robust  and  resolute 
companions  persuaded  them  to  renew  their  exertions  for  a 
short  timCj  and  to  proceed  with  a  slow  and  heavy  progress  on 
their  joiirney.  At  the  moment  when  every  hope  was  vanish- 
ing, they  discovered  that  they  were  in  the  neighborhood  of 
this  village.  ' 

8.  Three  of  their  company  were  then  ceputed  to  gO  for 
ward,  make  known  their  wants,  and  if  possible,  obtain  relief 
from  the  savages.  Colonel  McGillivray,  who  for  several 
years  exercised  an  entire  control  over  the  Creek  nations, 
had  for  some  time  resided  in  this  place ;  but  unfortunately 
was  now  absent.  As  they  approached  the  village,  the  Indi- 
ans observed,  that  their  saddles  were  such  as  were  used  by 
the  Virginians,  and  enemies.  In  vain  they  asserted,  that 
they  were  subjects  of  the  king  of  Great  Britain,  and  friends 
of  the  Creeks.  The  saddles  refuted  their  assertions.  About 
seventy  of  the  savages  formed  a  circle  around  the  messen- 
gers. In  vain  did  they  allege  the  defenceless  state  of  them- 
selves and  their  company  ;  the  presence  of  their  women  and 
children  ;  their  destitution  of  arms,  and  even  of  bread  ;  and 
the  frank,  friendly  manner,  in  which  they  had  entered  the 
village 

_  ,  ,  II  III  ■!■     I.   ■     ■  I        ^^^  ■      m 

Why  were  General  Lyman  and  his  family  suspected  by  the  Creole 
Indians  of  being  Virfi;inian«  ? 


mmmnmm^ififf'i'i'i 


"T^ 


TWV'^im 


390 


GENERAL  LYMAN. 


9.  Tlie  expeditioor  however,  still  appeared  mysterious  to 
the  Indians;  the  motives  which  led  to  it  strange  and  inex- 
plicable; and  the  unfortunate.saddles  decisively  contradic- 
tory to  all  their  professions.  An  earnest,  and  in  the  end  a 
very  vehement  debate  commenced  among  them,  of  which 
only  a  few  ill  boding  words  were  understood  by  the  messen- 
gers— such  as  Virginian,  long  knife,  no  good,  and  some 
others.  From  these  they  determined,  upon  the  btst  grounds 
that  tneir  fate  was  nearly,  if  not  quite  decided.  At  the  same 
time,  every  warrior  seized  his  knife ;  every  face  became  dis- 
torted with  wrath ;  and  every  eye  lighted  up  with  fierce  and 
gloomy  vengeance.  At  this  desperate  moment,  a  black  ser- 
vant of  Col.  McGillivray  returning  from  abroad,  entered  the 
circle,  and  demanded  the  cause  of  the  tumult.  The  Indians 
replied,  that  these  strangers  were  Virginians,  as  was  clearly 
proved  by  their  saddles  ;  that,  of  course,  they  were  bad  men, 
eneiri'-'s  to  the  Creeks,  and  to  their  father  the  king  of  Great 
Britr.  1 ;  and  that,  therefore,  they  ought  immediately  to  be 
killeu. 

10.  The  black  fellow  then  asked  the  messengers  who  and 
v/hentse  they  were,  and  what  was  their  errand  to  their  vil- 
lage. To  these  inquiries  they  returned  an  answer  with 
which  he  was  perfectly  satisfied.  He  then  told  the  Indians, 
that  they  had  wholly  mistaken  the  character  of  the  men ; 
that  they  were  not  Virginians,  but  British  subjects,  good 
men,  and  friends  to  the  Creeks ;  that  they  were  in  distress, 
»nd  instead  of  being  killed,  ought  therefore  to  be  instantly 
relieved.  When  he  found  that  his  remonstrances  did  not 
satisfy  the  Indians,  and  that  they  still  believed  the  messen- 
gers to  be  Virginians,  he  called  them  rascals,  fools,  and  mad- 
men. This  abuse  they  took  very  patiently,  without  attempt- 
ing a  reply  ;  but  still  declared  themselves  wholly  unsatisfied. 
At  length  one,  more  moderate  than  the  rest,  said,  '*  If  they 
are  Englishmen,  as  they  profess,  they  can  make  paper  talk ;" 
meaning,  that  if  they  were  Englishmen,  they  must  have  kept 
a  journal,  which  they  could  now  read  for  the  satisfaction  of 
the  Creeks. 

11.  The  "black  fellow,  seizing  the  hint,  asked  the  messen- 
gers whether  they  had  kept  any  such  journal.  They  replied 
in  the  negative.  He  then  asked  them  whiether  they  had  any 
written  paper  about  tliem^-observing  that  it  would  answer 


EXCISION  OF  WYOMING. 


291 


the.  purpose  equally  well.  One  of  them,  examining  Iiis  pock- 
ets, found  an  old  letter.  From  this  letter  the  black  desired 
him  to  read  a  history  of  the  expedition ;  and  promised  to 
Interpret  it  to  the  Indians.  Accordingly,  looking  on  the 
letter  as  if  he  was  reading  it,  he  briefly  recited  the  adven- 
tures of  himself  and  his  companions,  from  the  time  when  they 
left  Natches.  The  black  fellow  interpreted  sentence  by  sen- 
tence ;  and  the  Indians  listened  with  profound  attention.  As 
the  recital  went  on,  their  countenances,  which  at  the  sight 
of  the  letter  had  begun  to  relax,  gradually  softened  ;  and  be- 
fore it  was  finished,  the  gloom  gave  way  to  a  smile,  and  the 
ferocity  was  succeeded  by  friendship.  The  whole  body  put 
up  their  knives  ;  and,  coming  one  by  one  to  the  messengers, 
took  them  corMally  by  the  hand  ;  welcomed  them  to  their 
village ;  declared  themselves  satisfied  that  they  were  good 
men,  and  Englishmen  ;  and  promired  them  all  the  assistance 
in  their  power.  With  these  joyful  tidings  the  messengers 
set  out  for  their  company  ;  and  brought  them  immediately 
to  the  village.  Here  they  were  entertained  with  a  kindness 
and  hospitality,  as  honorable  to  the  Indians,  as  it  was  neces- 
sary to  themselves ;  and  rested,  until  they  were  recruited  for 
their  journey. 


EXCISION  OF  WYOMING. 

1.  Inhabitants  of  Connecticut  had  planted  on  the  eastern 
branch  of  the  Susquehanna,  towards  the  extremity  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  upon  the  road  of  Oswego,  the  settlement  of 
Wyoming.  Populous  and  flourishing,  its  prosperity  was  the 
subject  of  admiration.  It  consisted  of  eight  townships,  each 
containing  a  square  of  five  miles,  beautifully  situated  on  both 
sides  of  the  river.  The  mildness  of  the  climate  answered 
to  the  fertility  of  the  soil.  The  inhabitants  were  strangers 
alike  to  excessive  wealth,  which  elates  and  depraves ;  and 
to  poverty,  which  discourages  and  degrades.  All  lived  in  a 
happy  mediocrity,  frugal  of  their  own,  and  coveting  nothing 
from  others.  Incessantly  occupied  in  rural  toils,  they  avoid- 
ed idleness,  and  all  the  vices  of  which  it  is  the  source. 


How  were  the  Creeks  convinced  of  theii*  mistake  ? — By  whom  wai 
the  settlement  of  Wyoming  made  ?  -Where  was  it  .> 


203 


EXCISION  OF  WYOMING. 


%  In  a  word,  this  iittle  cojintry  presented,  in  reality,  the 
image  of  those  fatulous  times  which  the  poets  have  described 
under  the  name  of  the  Golden  Age.  But  their  domestic  fe- 
licity wa^  no  counterpoise  tp  the  zeal  with  which  they  were 
animated  for  the  common  cause ;  they  took  up  arms  and  flew 
to  succor  their  country.  It  is  said  they  had  furnished  to  the 
army  no  less  than  a  thousand  soldiers,  a  number  truly  prodi- 
gious for  so  feeble  a  population,  and  so  happy  in  their  homes. 
Yet  notwithstanding  the  drain  of  all  this  vigorous  youth, 
the  abundance  of  harvests  sustained- no  diminution.  Their 
crowded  granaries,  and  pastures  replenished  with  fat  cattle, 
ofTered  an  exhaustlcss  resource  to  the  American  army. 

3.  5ut  neither  so  many  advantages,  nor  even  the  retired 
situation  of  thesfe  unfortunate  colonists,  could  exempt  them 
from  the  baneful  influence  of  party  spirit.  Although  the  to- 
nes, as  they  called  them,  were  not  so  numerous  as  the  parti- 
sans of  liberty,  yet  they  challenged  attention  by  the  arro- 
gance of  their  character,  and  the  extent  of  their  pretensions. 
Hence,  not  only  families  were  seen  armed  against  families, 
but  qvpn  sons  sided  against  their  fathers,  brothers  against 
brothers,  and,  at  last,  wives  against  tHeir  husbands.  So  true 
it  is,  that  no  virtue  is  proof  against  the  fanaticisnj  of  opinion, 
and  no  .happiness  against  political  division. 

4.  The  tories  were,  besides,  exasperated  by  their  Josses  in 
the  excursions  they  had  made  in  company  with  the  savages 
in  th^  preceding  campaign.  But  tha.t  which  envenomed 
them.^he  most  was,  that  several  individuals  of  ttie  same  par- 
ty, who,  baving  quitted  their  habitations,  were  come  to  claim 
hospitality,  then  so  much  ijn  honor  among  the  Americans, 
and, particularly  at  Wyoming,  had  been  arrested  as  suspect- 
ed j^ersons,  and  sent  to  take  their  trial  in  Connecticut. 
Othe|;9  had  been  expelled  from  the  colony.  Thus  hatreds 
continued  more  and  more  rancorous.  The  tories  swore  re- 
venge— they  coalesced  with  the  Indians.  The  time  was 
favorable,  as  the  youth  of  Wyoming  were  then  at  the  army. 
In  o^" '' :    hii  better  to  secure  success,  and  to  surprise  their 

€^n<:-  '  .Tore  they  should  think  of  standing  upon  their  de- 
fent.  if:j  rer^orted  to-  artifice.  They  pretended  the  most 
friend*}  *iispo8?;:{6ns,  while  they  meditated  only  war  and  re- 
venge 


^3, 


How  man;'  •oldierfl  did  Wytiming  furnish  the  American  army 


EXCISION  OF  WYOMING, 


fm 


6.  A  few  weeks  before  they  prepared  to  execute  theii 
horrid  enterprise,  they  sent  several  messages,  charged  with 
protestations  of  their  earnest  desire  to  cultivate  peace.  These 
perfidies  lulled  the  inhabitants  of  Wyoming  into  a  deceitful 
security,  while  they  procured  the  tories  and  savages  the 
means  of  concerting  with  their  partisans,  and  of  observing 
the  immediate  state  of  the  colony.  Notwithstanding  the 
solemn  assurances  of  the  Indians,  the  colonists,  as  it  often 
happens  when  great  calamities  are  about  to  fall  on  a  people, 
seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  presentiment  of  their  approaching 
fat«.  They  wrote  to  Washington,  praying  him  to  send  im- 
mediate assistance.  Their  despatches  did  not  reach  him — 
they  were  intercepted  by  the  Pennsylvania  loyalists ;  and 
they  would,  besides,  have  arrived  too  late.  The  savages  had 
already  made  their  appearance  upon  the  frontiers  of  the  co- 
lony— the  plunder  they  had  made  there  was  of  little  impor- 
tance, but  the  cruelties  they  had  perpetrated  were  affright- 
ful — the  mournful  prelude  of  those  more  terrible  scenes 
which  weie  shortly  to  follow  ! 

6,  About  the  commencement  of  the  month  of  July,  1778, 
the  Indians  suddenly  appeared  in  force  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Susquehanna.  They  were  headed  by  a  Col.  John  But- 
ler, and  a  person  of  the  name  of  Brandt,  both  of  mixed  blood, 
together  with  other  chiefs  of  their  nation,  distinguished  by 
their  extreme  ferocity  in  the  preceding  expeditions.  This 
troop  amounted  in  all  to  sixteen  hundred  men,  of  whom  less 
than  a  fourth  were  Indians,  and  the  rest  were  tories,  dis- 
guised and  painted  to  resemble  them — the  officers,  however, 
wore  the  uniforms  of  their  rank,  and  had  the  appearance  of 
regulars.  The  colonists  of  Wyoming  finding  their  friends 
so  remote,  and  their  enemies  so  near,  had  constructed  for 
their  security  four  forts,  in  which,  and  upon  different  points 
of  the  frontier,  they  had  distributed  about  five  hundred  men. 

7.  The  whole  colony  was  placed  under  the  command  of 
Zebulun  Butler,  cousin  of  John,  a  man  who,  with  some  cou- 
rage, was  totally  devoid  of  capacity.  He  was  even  accused 
of  treachery  ;  but  this  imputation  is  not  proved.  It  is  at 
least  certain,  that  one  of  the  forts,  which  stood  nearest  the 

Why  did  not  the  doBpatches,  sent  to  Washington  Ar  relief^  r«»Mh 
him  ^— When  did  the  Excision  of  Wyoming  take  plftce  ?— Uadir 
whose  command  teas  the  colony  placed  r 


m 


EXCISION  OF  WYOMING. 


frontiers,  was  intrusted  to  soldiers  infected  with  the  opinions 
of  the  tories,  and  gave  it  up,  without  resistance,  at  the  first 
approach  of  the  enemy.  The  second,  on  being  vigorously 
assaulted,  surrendered  at  discretion.  The  savages  spared, 
it  is  true,  the  women  and  children ;  but  butchered  all  the 
rest  without  exception.  Zebulun  then  withdrew,  with  all 
his  people,  into  the  principal  fort,  called  Kingston.  The  old 
men,  the  women,  the  children,  the  sick,  in  a  word,  all  that 
were  unable  to  bear  arms,  repaired  thither  in  throngs,  and 
uttering  lamentable  cries,  as  to  the  last  refuge  where  any 
hope  of  safety  remained. 

8.  The  position  was  susceptible  of  defence ;  and  if  ZeRu- 
lun  had  held  firm,  he  might  have  hoped  to  withstand  the 
enemy,  until  the  arrival  of  succors.  But  John  Butler  was 
lavish  of  promises  in  order  to  draw  him  out,  in  which  he 
succeeded,  by  persuading  him,  that  if  he  would  consent  to 
a  parley  in  the  open  field,  the  siege  would  soon  be  raised, 
and  every  thing  accommodated.  John  retired,  in  fact,  with 
all  his  corps ;  Zebulun  afterwards  marched  out  to  the  place 
appointed  for  the  conference,  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  fort ;  from  motives  of  caution,  he  took  with  him  four 
hundred  men,  well  armed,  being  nearly  the  whole  strength 
of  the  garrison.  If  this  step  was  not  dictated  by  treachery, 
it  must,  at  least,  be  attributed  to  a  very  strange  simplicity. 

9.  Having  come  to  the  spot  agreed  on,  Zebulun  found  no 
living  being  there.  Reluctant  to  return  without  an  inter- 
view, he  advanced  towards  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  at  a  still 
greater  distance  from  the  fort,  hoping  he  might  find  some 
person  to  confer  with.  The  farther  he  proceeded  in  this 
dismal  solitude,  the  more  he  had  occasion  to  remark  that  no 
token  appeared  of  the  presence  or  vicinity  of  human  crea- 
tures. But  far  from  halting,  as  if  impelled  by  an  irresistible 
destiny,  he  continued  his  march.  The  country,  ^neanwhile, 
began  to  be  overshaded  by  thick  forests ;  at  length,  in  a 
winding  path,  he  perceived  a  flag,  which  seemed  to  wave 
him  on.  The  individual  who  bore  it,  as  if  afraid  of  treache- 
ry from  his  side,  retired  as  he  advanced,  still  making  the 
same  signals.  But  already  the  Indians,  who  knew  the  coun- 
try, profiting  by  the  obscurity  of  the  woods,  had  completely 
surrounded  him.  The  unfortunate  American,  without  sus- 
picion of  the  peril  he  was  in,  continued  to  press  forward,  in 
order  to  assure  the  traitors  that  he  would  not  betray  them. 


EXCISION  OP  WYOMING. 


:^!95 


leni. 


He  was  awakened  but  too  soon  from  this  dream  of  security  : 
in  an  instant  the  savages  sprung  from  their  ambush,  and  fell 
upon  him  with  hideous  yells. 

10.  He  formed  his  little  troop  into  a  compact  column,  and 
showed  more  presence  of  mind  in  danger  than  he  had  mani- 
fested in  negotiations.  Though  surprised,  the  Americans 
exhibited  such  vigor  and  resolution  that  the  advantage  was 
rather  on  their  side ;  when  a  soldier,  either  from  treachery 
or  cowardice,  cried  out  aloud — "  The  colonel  has  ordered  a 
retreat^  The  Americans  immediately  break,  the  savages 
leap  in  among  the  ranks,  and  a  horrible  carnage  ensues. 
The  fugitives  fall  by  missiles,  the  resisting  by  clubs  and 
tomahawks.  The  wounded  overturn  those  that  are  not ;  the 
dead  and  the  dying  are  heaped  together  ^omiscuously. 
Happy  those  who  expire  the  soonest !  The  savages  reserve 
the  living  for  tortures !  and  the  infuriate  tories,  if  other  arms 
fail  them,  mangle  the  prisoners  with  their  nails  !  Never  was 
rout  so  deplorable  ;  never  was  massacre  accompanied  with 
so  many  horrors.  Nearly  all  the  Americans  perished ;  about 
sixty  escaped  from  the  butchery,  and,  with  Zebulun,  made 
their  way  good  to  a  redoubt  upon  the  other  bank  of  the  Sui^ 
quehanna. 

11.  The  conquerors  invested  Kingston  anew ;  and  to  dis- 
may the  relics  of  the  garrison  by  the  most  execrable  specta- 
cle, they  hurled  into  the  place  above  two  hundred  scalps, 
still  reeking  with  the  blood  of  their  slaughtered  brethren. 
Colonel  Dennison,  who  commanded  the  fort,  seeing  the  im- 
possibility of  defence,  sent  out  a  flag  to  inquire  of  Butler 
what  terms  would  be  allowed  the  garrison,  on  surrendering 
the  fort.  He  answered,  with  all  the  fellness  of  his  inhuman 
character,  and  in  a  single  word — the  hatchet.  Reduced  to 
this  dreadful  extremity,  the  colonel  still  made  what  resist- 
ance he  could.  At  length,  having  lost  almost  all  his  soldiers, 
he  surrendered  at  discretion.  The  savages  entered  the  fort, 
and  began  to  drag  out  the  vanquished  ;  who,  knowing  the 
hands  they  were  in,  expected  no  mercy.  But,  impatient  of 
the  tediousness  of  murder  in  detail,  the  barbarians  after- 
wards bethought  themselves  of  enclosing  the  men,  women, 
and  children,  promiscuously  in  the  houses  and  barracks,  to 
which  they  set  fire,  and  consumed  all  within  ;  listening,  de- 
lighted, to  the  moans  and  shrieks  of  the  expiring  multitude. 

12.  The  fort  of  Wilkesbarre  still  remained  in  the  power 

27t 


■Ji^. 


296 


NEW-ENGLAND. 


of  the  colonists  of  Wyoming.  The  victors  presented  them- 
selves  befoie  it ;  those  within,  hoping  to  find  mercy,  surren- 
dered at  discretion,  and  without  resistance.  But  if  opposi- 
tion exasperated  these  ferocious  men,  or  rather  these  tigers, 
insatiable  of  human  blood,  submission  did  not  soften  them. 
Their  rage  was  principally  exercised  upon  the  soldiers  of  the 
garrison  ;  all  of  whom  they  put  to  death,  with  a  barbarity 
ingenious  in  tortures.  As  for  the  rest,  men,  women,  and 
children,  who  appeared  to  them  not  to  merit  any  special  at^ 
tention,  they  burned  them  as  before,  in  the  houses  and  bar- 
racks. The  forts  being  fallen  into  their  hands,  the  barbari- 
ans proceeded,  without  obstacle,  to  the  devastation  of  the 
country.  They  employed  at  once,  sword,  fire,  and  all  in- 
istruments  of  destruction.  The  crops,  of  every  description, 
were  consigned  to  the  flames.  The  habitations,  granaries, 
tod  other  constructions,  the  fruit  of  years  of  human  indus^ 
(ry,  stink  in  ruin  under  the  destructive  strokes  of  these  can* 
nibals. 


NEW-ENGLAND. 

Hail  to  the  land  whereon  we  tread, 
;  s  ,      ..!  Our  fondest  boast ; 
The  sepulchre  of  mighty  dead, 
The  truest  hearts  that  ever  bled, 
Who  sleep  on  glory's  brightest  bed, 

A  fearless  host ; 
No  slave  is  here— our  unchainM  feet 
Walk  freely,  as  the  waves  that  beat 

Our  coast. 

Our  fathers  cross'd  the  ocean's  wave 

To  seek  this  shore ; 
They  left  behind  the  coward  slave 
To  welter  in  his  living  grave ; 
With  hearts  unbent,  high,  steady,  brave, 

They  sternly  bore 


What  became  of  the  women  and  children  in  forts  Knirston  and 
Wnkosbarro ' 


.  Utte-.-        ,  .  ■  ■■  .-JL.  . . .. 


NEW-ENGLAND. 

Such  toils  as  meaner  souls  had  queilM ; 
But  souls  like  these,  such  toils  impellM 
To  soar. 

Hail  to  the  morn,  when  first  they  stood 

On  Bunker^s  height ; 
And  fearless  stemmed  th'  invading  flood) 
And  wrote  our  dearest  rights  in  blood, 
And  mowM  in  ranks  the  hireling  brood« 

In  desp'rate  fight ; 
O !  Hwas  a  proud,  exulting  day, 
For  cv'n  our  fallen  fortunes  lay 

In  light. 

There  is  no  other  land  like  thee, 

No  dearer  shore ; 
Thou  art  the  shelter  of  the  free ; 
The  home,  the  port  of  liberty 
Thou  hast  been,  and  shall  ever  be, 

Till  time  is  o'er. 
Ere  I  forget  to  think  upon, 
My  landt  shall  mother  .curse  the  son 

She  bore.      . 

Thou  art  the  firm,  unshaken  rock. 

On  which  we  rest ; 
And,  rising  from  the  hardy  stocl^y 
Thy  sons  the  tyrant's  frown  shall  mock» 
And  slavery's  galling  chains  unlock, 

.  And  free  th'  oppress'd — 
All  who  the  wreath  of  freedom  twine 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  their  vine, 

Are  blest. 

We  love  thy  rqde  and  rocky  shore, 

And  here  we  stand — 
Let  foreign  navies  hasten  o'er,     , 
And  on  our  heads  their  fury  pour, 
And  peal  their  cannon's  loudest  roar, 

And  storm  our  land ; 
They  still  shall  find  our  lives  are  giv'n 
To  die  for  home  ;  and  lean'd  on  heav*n 

Our  hand. 


297 


SOS 


TORNADO  IN  BARBADOES. 


TORNADO  IN  BARBADOES. 

1.  It  was  now  the  month  of  October,  1780,  and  the  in- 
habitants of  the  islands  were  in  the  enjoyment  of  that  unex- 
pected tranquillity  which  resulted  from  the  cessation  of  arms, 
when  their  shores,  and  the  seas  that  washed  them,  were  as- 
sailed by  so  dreadful  a  tempest,  that  scarcely  would  there  be 
found  a  similar  example  in  the  whole  series  of  maritime  re- 
cords, however  replete  with  shocking  disasters  and  pitiable 
shipwrecks.  If  this  fearful  scourge  fell  with  more  or  less 
violence  upon  all  the  islands  of  the  West  Indies,  it  no  where 
raged  with  more  destructive  energy  than  in  the  flourishing 
island  of  Barbadoes.  It  was  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth, 
that  the  tornado  set  in,  and  it  hardly  began  to  abate  forty- 
eight  hours  aften  The  vesscis  that  were  moored  in  the  port, 
where  they  were  considered  in  safety,  were  wrenched  from 
their  anchors,  launched  into  the  open  sea,  anc'  abandoned  tc 
the  mercy  of  the  tempest.  Nor  was  the  condition  of  the 
inhabitants  on  shore  less  worthy  of  compassion. 

2.  In  the  following  night,  the  vehemence  of  the  hurricane 
became  yet  more  extreme ;  houses  were  demolished,  trees 
uprooted,  men  and  animals  tossed  hither  and  thither,  or  over- 
whelmed by  the  ruins.  The  capital  of  the  island  was  well 
nigh  rased  to  a  level  with  the  ground.  The  mansion  of  the 
governor,  the  walls  of  which  were  three  feet  in  thickness, 
was  shaken  to  its  foundations,  and  every  moment  threatened 
to  crumble  in  ruins.  Those  within  had  hastened  to  barri- 
cade the  doors  and  windows,  to  resist  the  whirlwinds ;  all 
their  efforts  were  of  no  avail.  The  doors  were  rent  from 
their  hinges,  the  bars  and  fastenings  forced  ;  and  chasms 
started  in  the  very  walls.  The  governor,  with  lis  family, 
sought  refuge  in  the  subterraneous  vaults :  hiU  they  were 
soon  driven  from  that  shelter,  by  the  torrents  of  water  that 
poured  like  a  new  deluge  from  the  sky. 

3.  They  issued  then  into  the  open  country ;  and,  with  ex- 
treme difficulty  and  continual  perils,  repaired  under  the  co- 
vert of  a  mound,  upon  which  the  flag-staff  was  erected ;  but 
that  mass  being  itself  rocked  by  the  excessive  fury  of  the 
wind,  the  apprehension  of  being  buried  under  the  stones  that 
were  detached  from  it,  compelled  them  again  to  remove,  and 
to  retire  from  aM  habitation.  Happily  for  them,  they  held 
together ;  for  without  the  mutual  aid  they  lent  each  other, 


TORNADO  IN  BAllBADOES. 


290 


they  must  all  inevitably  have  perished.  Afler  a  long  and 
toilsome  march  in  the  midst  of  ruins,  they  succeeded  in  gain< 
ing  a  battery,  where  they  stretched  themselves,  face  down- 
ward, on  the  ground,  behind  the  carriages  of  the  heaviest 
cannon,  still  a  wretched  and  doubtful  asylum,  since  those 
very  carriages  were  continually  put  in  motion  by  the  impetu- 
osity of  the  vortical  gusta. 

4.  The  other  houses  of  the  city  being  less  solid,  had  been 
prostrated  before  that  of  the  governor,  and  their  unhappy 
inhabitants  wandered  as  chance  directed  during  that  merci- 
less night,  without  shelter  and  without  succor.  Many  pe- 
rished under  the  ruins  of  their  dwellings  ;  others  were  the 
victims  of  the  sudden  inundation  ;  several  were  suffocated 
in  the  mire.  The  thickness  of  the  darkness,  the  lurid  fire 
of  the  lightning,  the  continual  peal  of  the  thunder,  the  hor- 
rible whistling  of  the  winds  and  rain,  the  doleful  cries  of  the 
dying,  the  despondent  moans  of  those  who  were  unable  to 
succor  fhem,  the  shrieks  and  wailings  of  women  and  chil- 
dren, all  seemed  to  announce  the  destruction  of  the  world. 
But  the  return  of  day  presented  to  the  view  of  the  survivors 
a  spectacle  which  the  imagination  scarcely  dares  to  depict. 

5.  This  island,  lately  so  rich,  so  flourishing,  so  covered 
with  enchanting  landscapes,  appeared  all  of  a  sudden  trans- 
formed into  one  of  those  polar  regions,  where  an  eternal 
winter  reigns.  Not  an  edifice  left  standing  ;  wrecks  and  ru- 
ins every  where  ;  every  tree  subverted ;  not  an  animal  alive ; 
the  earth  strown  with  their  remains,  intermingled  with  those 
of  human  beings  ;  the  very  surface  of  the  soil  apppared  no 
longer  the  same.  Not  merely  the  crops  that  were  m  pros- 
pect, and  those  already  gathered,  had  been  df^voured  by  the 
hurricane ;  the  gardens,  the  fields,  those  sources  of  the  delight 
and  opulence  of  the  colonists,  had  cej|;«5d  to  exist.  In  their 
place  were  found  deep  sand,  or  at^nl  clay ;  the  enclosures 
iad  disappeared  ;  the  ditches  were  filled  up  ;  the  roads  cut 
with  deep  ravines.  The  dea<i  amounted  to  some  thousands ; 
thus  much  is  known,  though  the  precise  number  is  not  as- 
certained. 

6.  In  effect,  besides  those  whose  fallen  houses  became 
their  tombs,  how  many  were  swept  away  by  the  waves  of  the 
swoln  sea  and  by  the  torrents,  resembling  rivers,  which 
gushed  from  the  hills  !  The  wind  blew  with  a  violence  so 
unheard  of,  that,  if  credit  be  given  to  the  most  solemn  docu- 


300 


AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE. 


ments,  a  piece  of  cannon,  which  threw  twelve  pound  balls, 
was  transported  from  one  battery  to  another  at  more  than 
three  hundred  yards  distance.  Much  of  what  escaped  the 
fury  of  the  tempest,  fell  a  prey  to  the  frantic  violence  of  men. 
As  soon  as  the  gates  of  the  prisons  were  burst,  the  criminals 
sallied  fortli,  and  joining  the  negroes,  always  prepared  for 
nefarious  deeds,  they  seemed  to  brave  the  wrath  of  heaven, 
and  put  every  thing  to  sack  and  plunder. 

7.  And  perhaps  the  whites  would  have  been  all  maslsa- 
cred,  and  the  whole  island  consigned  to  perdition,  if  general 
Vaughan,  who  happened  to  be  there  at  the  time,  had  not 
watched  over  the  public  safety  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  regu- 
lar troops.  His  cares  were  successful  in  saving  a  considera- 
ble quantity  of  provision,  but  for  which  resource  the  inhabit- 
ants would  only  have  escaped  the  ravages  of  the  hurricane, 
to  be  victims  of  the  no  less  horrible  scourge  of  famine.  Nor 
should  it  be  passed  over  in  silence,  by  a  sincere  friend  of 
truth  and  honorable  deeds,  that  the  Spanish  prisoners  of  war, 
at  this  time  considerably  numerous  in  Barbadoes,  uiider  the 
conduct  of  Don  Pedro  San  Jago,  did  every  thing  that  could 
be  expected  of  brave  and  generous  soldiers.  Far  from  pro- 
fiting of  this  calamitous  conjuncture  to  abuse  their  liberty, 
they  voluntarily  encountered  perils  of  every  kind  to  succor 
the  unfortunate  islanders,  who  warmly  acknowledged  their 
services. 


AMERICAN  INDEPENDENCE. 

He  that  outi>'^  ^^'^1^7  "^^^"^  '^^^  *^^^^  , . 
From  those  sharp  ."onflict?,  which  the  same  assur  d, 
Shall  stand  on  tiptoe,  .^^en  that  day  is  n^m  d, 
And  rouse  him  at  the  sou:^^  ^^  mdependence. 

They  who  livM  through  those  th'T^^  ^"^  «««  ^^^  ^ge, 

Shall  yearly  feast  among  tlieir  count/^"^^"'         . 

And  some  shall  strip  their  sleeves  and  J^^^  '"®*'^  ^^^'■' 

Familiar  in  our  mouths,  as  household  words, 

SV  ail  be  the  names  of  Washington,  and  Warren,      v 

'  tancock,  and  Adams,  Hamilton,  and  Green 


FRENCH  BASTILE. 

Knox,  Franklin,  Lincoln  ;  and  full  many  others 
Shall  in  our  flowing  cups  be  fresh  rememberM. 
Our  Independence,  then,  shall  ne'er  go  by, 
Froni  this  day  to  the  ending  of  the  world ; 
But  its  first  founders  weMl  commemorate. 


^01 


FRENCH  BASTILE. 

1.  While  the  Bastile  remained  in  the  power  of  the  crown, 
the  revolutionists  could  not'  think  themselves  in  security. 
On  the  14th  of  July,  A,  D.  1789,  that  awful  fortress  of  des- 
potism, of  which  the  name  for  ages  inspired  terror,  was  in- 
vested by  a  mixed  multitude  of  citizens,  and  soldiers  who  had 
joined  the  popular  banner.  De  Launay,  the  governor,  dis- 
played a  flag  of  trace,  and  demanded  a  parley  ;  but,  abusing 
the  Confidence  which  that  signal  inspired^  he  discharged  a 
heavy  fire  of  cannon  and  musketry  on  the  besiegers.  This 
act  of  treachery,  far  from  intimidating  the  people,  only  in- 
flamed their  rage,  and  rendered  them  desperate.  They  re- 
newed the  attack  with  a  valor  raised  to  frenzy.  The  Bastile 
y^as  carried  by  assault.  The  governor  being  seized,  was 
instantly  massacred,  and  his  head  carried  in  triumph  through 
the  streets  of  the  capital. 

%  In  the  gloomy  apartments  of  this  justly  dreaded  state 
prison,  which  had  so  long  been  sacred  to  silence  and  despair, 
was  found,  amongst  other  engines  of  cruelty,,  an  iron  cage, 
containing  the  skeleton  of  a  man,  who  had  probably  lingered 
out  a  considerable  part  of  his  existence  in  that  horrid  abode. 
Amongst  the  prisoners  released  by  the  destruction  of  this 
fortress,^  were  major  White,  a  native  of  Scotland,  and  the 
count  de  Lorges  :  the  former  a^ppeared  to  have  his  intellec- 
tual faculties  greatly  impaired  by  long  confinement  and  misc:  - 
ry,  and,  from  being  unaccustomed  to  converse  with  mankinu, 
he  had  forgotten  the  use  of  speech  ;  the  latter  was  exhibited 
to  the  public  in  the  Palais  Royal ;  and  his  squalid  appear- 
ance, his  white  beard,  which  descended  to  his  waist,  and  his 
imbecility,  the  direful  effect  of  imprisonment  for  thirty-two 


,.fc    11.%  ■!  ■      II  » 


When  was  the  French  Bastile  destroyed  ? — "What  conduct  in  t^l• 
governor  ffireatly  enra^fod  the  populace  ?  ~Wh»t  wm  the  fat?  of  th* 
governor  f         ^  ...........  ■■^a^./^... 


,;*jAVy  v«>*:j|.!;i,v-"' 


t 


30d 


FRENCH  BASTILE. 


years,  rendered  him  an  object  perfectly  adapted  to  operate 
on  the  passions  of  every  spectator.  The  Bastile  was  levelled 
to  the  ground,  and  with  it  the  despotism  of  the  French  mo- 
narchy fell  prostrate  in  the  dust. 

3.  Had  the  Parisians  stopped  at  this  point,  their  proceed- 
ings would  have  merited  the  applause  of  posterity.  But  tre- 
mendous riots  in  the  capital  and  at  Versailles,  which  me- 
naced the  lives  of  the  king  and  queen,  and  the  "  ^  ardes  du 
corps,"  showed  that  the  fury  of  the  populace  was  not  yet 
satisfied.  These,  however,  being  only  the  acts  of  a  frantic 
mob,  were  not  productive  of  any  important  results.  The 
popular  frenzy  at  length  began  to  subside,  and  the  public 
tranquillity  seemed  to  be  restored. 

4.  The  14th  of  July,  A.  D.  1790,  the  anniversary  of  the 
capture  of  the  Bastile,  was  distinguished  by  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  and  interesting  scenes  ever  exhibited  in  any  age 
or  country.  This  was  the  grand  confederation  celebrated  at 
the  '*  Champ  de  Mars," — a  piece  of  ground  adjoining  to 
Paris,  about  eight  hundred  yards  in  length,  bounded'on  each 
side  by  lofty  trees,  and  commanding  at  the  farther  extremity 
a  view  of  the  military  academy.  In  the  middle  of  this  field 
an  altar  was  erected,  for  the  purpose  of  administering  the 
civic  oath ;  and  around  it  was  thrown  up  an  immense  amphi- 
theatre, capable  of  containing  four  hundred  thousand  specta- 
tors ;  the  entrance  was  through  triumphal  arches ;  the  king's 
throne  was  placed  under  an  elegant  pavilion  ;  and  on  each 
side  were  seats  for  the  members  of  the  national  assembly. 
Here  the  national  guards  of  ihe  departments,  distinguished 
by  their  respective  standards,  the  battalions  of  infantry,  the 
troops  of  cavalry,  &:.c.  being  ranged  in  military  order,  the 
king,  the  national  assembly,  and  the  armed  citizens,  bound 
themselves  by  a  solemn  oath  to  maintain  the  new  constitu- 
tion which  the  assembly  had  framed.  The  same  oath  wa5 
taken  on  the  same  day  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom. 

5.  The  revolution  now  seemed  to  be  completed,  nnd  every 
thing  displayed  an  aspect  of  tranquillity.  The  French  na- 
tion imagined  that  the  poetical  fiction  of  a  golden  age  was 
realized.  Many  persons  in  England  were  also  of  the  same 
opinion.     But  the  glittering  prospect  was  illusory,  and  dire- 


What  look  place  on  the  ttnnivorsary  of  tho  destruction  of  the  Boi- 
tile  ? 


IP 


IMPRlSOiNMENT  OF  LAFAYETTE.        303 

ul  events  were  in  embryo.  The  king  appears  to  have  re- 
garded the  oath  which  he  had  taken  ?.s  compulsory,  and  he 
saw  himself  divested  of  a  great  part  of  the  power  which  he 
had  inherited  from  his  predecessors.  His  brothers,  the  count 
of  Provence  (the  late  Louis  XVIIL,)  and  the  count  d'Artois, 
now  Charles  X.,  as  well  as  the  prince  de  Conde,  with  some 
other  princes  of  the  blood,  and  several  nobles  of  high  rank 
and  fortune,  had,  at  the  commencement  of  the  disturbances, 
retired  from  France  and  found  an  ayylum  in  Germany. 
Loins  XVL,  conceiving  himself  to  be  laid  under  undue  re- 
strictions, resolved  to  adopt  the  same  measure.  In  the  night 
of  the  20»h  of  June,  1791,  the  king  and  queen,  with  their 
family,  made  their  escape  from  Paris.  But  their  plans  being 
ill-concerted,  and  their  mode  of  travelling  calculated  to  ex- 
cite suspicion,  they  were  arrested  at  Varennes,  in  proceeding 
towards  the  German  frontier,  and  re-conducted  to  the  Tuil- 
leries.  This  singular  and  unfortunate  occurrence  destroyed 
all  confidence  between  the  nation  and  the  king. 


e  Boi' 


LAFAYETTE  IN  THE  DUNGEONS 
OF  OLMUTZ. 

L  The  time  having  come  when  Lafayette  could  do  no^ 
thing  at  Paris,  he  returned  to  his  army,  on  the  borders  of 
the  low  countries.  But  the  army  too,  was  now  infected* 
He  endeavored  to  assure  himself  of  its  fidelity,  and  proposed 
to  the  soldiers  to  swear  anew  to  the  Constitution.  Avery 
large  proporlk>i)  r^  fused,  and  it  immediately  became  appa- 
rent, from  ilu;  iii'>vements,  both  at  Paris  and  in  the  army, 
that  he  was  no  ir^rf  er  bjfe.  His  adversaries,  who  for  his 
letter  were  determined  and  uiterested  to  ruin  him,  were  his 
judges;  and  they  belonged  to  a  party,  which  was  never 
known  to  devote  a  victim  without  consummating  the  sacri- 
fice. On  the  17th  of  August,  therefore,  accompanied  by 
three  of  his  general  officers,  he  left  the  army,  and  in  a  few 
hours  was  '^yond  the  limits  of  France.  His  general  pur- 
pose was  t^^  "  each  the  neutral  territory  of   he  republic  of 


What  circumBtanco  destroyed  all  confidence  between  the  French 
peop.e  and  the  kin^  ?— When  did  Lafayette  leave  the  army,  and  by 
whom  \vii3  he  accornp.mird  r — What  was  hia  jjeneral  purpose  ? 

28 


301 


IMPRISONMENT  OF  LAFAYETTR 


Holland,  which  was  quite  near ;  and  from  that  point  either 
rally  the  old  constitutional  party,  or  pass  to  Switzerland  or 
the  United  States,  where  he  should  be  joined  by  his  family. 

2.  Lafayette  and  his  companions  hoped  to  avoid  ihe  ene- 
my's posts,  but  they  did  not  succeed.  They  were  seized 
the  same  night  by  an  Austrian  patrol,  and  soon  afterwards 
recognised*  They  were  not  treated  as  prisoners  of  war, 
which  was  the  only  quality  in  which  they  could  have  been 
arrested  and  detained,,  but  ^ /ere,  exposed  to  disgraceful  inh 
dignities,  because  the^  had  b6en  the  friends  of  the  Con- 
stitution. After  being  detained  a  fihort  time  by  the  Au»- 
trians,  they  were  given  up  tO  .the  Prussians,  who,  because 
their  fortresses  were  nearer,  were  siupposed  to  be  able  to 
receive  and  guard  them  more  conveniently*  At  first,  they 
were  confined  at  Wesel  on  the  v^.hine,  and  after  v/ards  in 
dungeons  at  Magdeburg. 

3.  But  the  Prussians  at  last  becai^i;  <: willing  to  bear  th^ 
odium  of  such  ui  javyful  and  disgraceful  treatment  of  pri- 
soners of  war,  entitled  to  every  degree  of  respect  from  their 
rank  and  character;  and  especially  from  the  manner  in 
which  they  had  been  taken.  They,  therefore,  before  they 
made  pe^ce  gave  them  up  to  the  Austrians,  who  finaflly  trans- 
ferred them  to  most  unhealthy  dungeons  in  the  citadel  of 
Olmutz.  The  sufferings  to  which  Lafayette  was  here  ex- 
posedy  in  the  mere  spirit  of  a  barbarous  revenge^  are  almost 
mcredible.  He  was  warned,  "  that  he  would  never  again 
see  any  thing  but  the  four  walls  of  his  dungeon;  that  h« 
would  never  receive  news  of  events  or  persons ;  that  his  name 
would  be  unknown  in  the  citadel,  and  that  in  all  accounts  of 
him  sent  to  court,  he  would  be  designated  only  by  a  number; 
that  he  would  never  receive  any  notice  of  his  family,  or  of 
the  existence  of  his  fellow  prisoners.'*  At  the  same  time, 
knives  and  forks  were  removed  from  him,  as  he  was  ofiicially 
informed,  that  his  situation  wls  one  which  would  naturally 
lead  him  to  suicide. 

4.  His  sufferings,  indeed,  proved  almost  beyond  his  strengtl^i. 
The  want  of  a'r,  and  the  loathsome  dampness  and  filth  of  his 


What  became  of  Lafayette  and  his  companions  .*— -Why  were  th'sv 
ffiveo  up  to  thia  Prussians,  and  where  were  they  confined  r — Why  did 
the  FruBsians  deliver  them  back  to  the  Austrians,  and  where  were  tb^y 
iSnally  transferred ?— Of  what  waft  Lafayette  warned? — What  i^  9a'\i 
»f  his  Bufferings? 


\'H», 


'Mtt*4r*' 


■■>••'  .l►l^^■• 


^^'■.f<- 


irJ^.t^vK  .^y... 


IMPRISONMENT  OF  LAFAYETTE. 


90J 


ly  ma 

lit  «a\<i 


dungeon,  brought  him  more  than  once  to  the  borders  of  the 
grave.  His  frame  "was  wasted  with  disease,  of  which,  for  a 
long  period,  not  the  slightest  notice  was  taken,  and  on  one 
occasion,  he  was  reduced  so  low,  that  his  hair  fell  from  him 
entirely  by  the  excess  of  his  sufferings.  At  the  same  time, 
his  estates  in  Fi'ance  were  confiscated,  his  wife  cast  into 
prison,  and  JPayettisme,  as  adherence  to  the  Constitution  was 
called,  was  puni^ed  with  death. 

5.  His  friends,  howe«rer,  all  over  Europe,  were  carefully 
watching  every  opportunity  to  obtain  some  intelligence  which 
should,  at  least,  render  his  existence  certain.  *In  June  1794, 
they  sent  Dr.  Bollman  to  Germany  to  ascertain  what  had 
been  his  fate,  and  if  he  were  still  alive,  to  endeavor  to  pro- 
cure his  escape.     With  great  difficulty,  he  traced  the  Vfench 
prisoners  to  the  Prussian  frontiers,  and  there  ascertained, 
that  an  Austrian  escort  had  received  them,  and  taken  the 
road  to  Olmutz,  a  strong  fortress  in  Moravia,  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  north  of  Vienna,  and  near4he  borders  of  Si- 
lesia.     At  Olmutz,  Dr.  Bollman  ascertained  that  several 
state  prisoners  were  kept  in  the  citadel  with  a  degree  of 
Oautioti  and  inystery,  which  must  have  been  not  unlike  that 
used  towards  the  half  fabulous  personage  in  the  iron  mask. 
He  did  not  doubt  but  Lafayette  was  one  of  them,  and  mak- 
ing himself  professionally  acquainted  with  the  military  sur- 
geon of  the  post,  soon  became  sure  of  it.    By  very  ingeniouft* 
means,  Dr.  Bollman  contrived  to  communicate  his  projects 
through  this  surgeon  to  Lafayette,  and  to  obtain  answers 
without  exciting  the  surgeon's  suspicions ;  until  at  last,  after 
the  lapse  of  several  monuis,  during  which,  to  avoid  all  risk, 
Dr.  Bdlnian  made  a  long  visit  at  Vienna ;  it  was  determin- 
ed that  an  attertipt  should  be  made  to  rescue  Lafayette,  while 
on  one  of  the  airings,  with  which  he  was  then  regularly  in- 
dulged, on  account  of  his  broken  health. 

6.  As  soon  as  this  was  arranged,  Dr.  Bollman  returned  to 
Vienna,  and  communicated  his  project  to  a  young  Ariieri- 
can,  by  the  name  of  Francis  K.  Huger,  then  accidentally 
in  Austria ;  aon  of  the  person  at  whose  house,  near  Charles- 
ton, Lafayette  had  been  first   received  on  his  landing  in 


For  what  pui  pose  wah  Dr.  Bollman  sent  to  Cermany,  and  when  f 
.  What  was  his  success  ? — What  was  finally  determined  with  regard 
to  Lafbyctte  ?— To  whom  did  P^  Bol^a^];^  99inm«n^c(\t9  hii  projoot  ^ 


«HH 


30G 


IMPRISONMENT  OF  LAFAYETTE. 


America ;  a  young  man  of  uncommon  talent,  decision,  and 
enthusiasm,  who  at  once  entered  into  the  whole  design,  and 
die  voted  himself  to  its  execution  with  the  most  romantic 
earnestness-  These  were  the  only  two  persons  on  the  con- 
tinent, except  Lafayette  himself,  who  had  the  slightest  sus- 
picion of  these  arrangements  for  his  rescue,  and  neither  of 
these  persons  knew  him  by  sight.  It  was  therefore  concert- 
ed between  the  parties,  after  the  two  friends  had  come  to 
Olmutz  in  November,  that,  to  avoid  all  mistakes  when  the 
rescue  should  be  attempted,  each  should  take  off  his  hat  and 
wipe  his  forehead,  in  sign  of  recognition,  and  then,  having 
ascertained  a  day  when  Lafayette  would  ride  out,  Dr.  Boll- 
man  and  Mr.  Huger  sent  their  carriage  ahead  to  HofT,  a  post 
town  about  twenty-five  miles  on  the  road  they  wished  to 
take,  with  directions  to  have  it  waiting  for  them  at  a  given 
hour.  The  rescue  they  determined  to  attempt  on  horse- 
back ;  and  they  out  no  balls  ir  to  their  pistols,  and  took  no 
other  weapons,  thinking  it  would  be  unjustifiable  to  commit 
a  murder  even  to  effect  their  p'^"^  >se. 

7.  Having  ascertained  that  a  carriage  which  they  sup- 
posed must  contain  Lafayette,  since  there  was  a  prisoner  and 
an  officer  inside,  and  a  guard  behind,  had  passed  out  of  the 
gate  of  the  fortress,  they  mounted  and  followed.  They  rode 
by  it,  and  then  slackening  their  pace  and  allowing  it  again 
to  go  ahead,  exchanged  signals  with  the  prisoner.  At  two 
or  three  miles  from  the  gate  the  carriage  left  the  high  road, 
and  v'ssing  into  a  less  frequented  track,  in  the  midst  of  an 
open  country,  Lafayette  descended  to  walk  for  exercise, 
guarded  only  by  the  officer  who  had  been  riding  with  iiim. 
This  was  evidently  the  moment  for  their  attempt.  They 
therefore  rode  up  at  once,  and  after  an  inconsiderable  strug- 
gle with  the  officer,  from  which  the  guard  fled  to  alarm  the 
citadel,  the  rescue  was  completed.  One  of  the  Ijorses,  how- 
ever, had  escaped  during  the  contest,  and  thus  only  one  re- 
mained with  which  to  proceed.  Lafayette  was  immediately 
mounted  on  this  horse,  -  .id  Mr.  Huger  told  him  in  English, 
to  go  to  Hoff.  He  mistook  what  was  said  to  him  for  a  mere 
general  direction  to  go  off- — delayed  a  moment  to  see  if  he 
could  not  assist  them — then  went  on — then  rode  back  again 


What  was  concerted  between  the  parties  ? — How  did  they  deter' 
mine  to  attempt  the  rescue  P — In  what  manner  did  they  effect  it  ? 


IMPRISONMENT  OF  LAFAYETTE. 


307 


and  asked  once  more,  if  he  could  be  of  no  service — and 
finally,  urged  anew,  galloped  slowly  away. 

8.  The  horse  that  had  escaped  was  soon  recovered,  and 
both  Dr.  Bollman  and  Mr.  Huger  mounted  him,  intending  to 
follow  and  assist  Lafayette.  But  the  animal  proved  intracta- 
ble, threw  them,  and  left  them  for  some  time,  stunned  by 
their  fall.  On  recovering  their  horse  a  second  time,  Dr. 
Bollman  alone  mounted ;  Mr.  Huger  thinking  that,  from  his 
own  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  German,  he  could  not  do  as 
much  towards  effecting  their  main  purpose.  These  accidents 
defeated  their  romantic  enterprise.  Mr.  Huger,  who  could 
now  attempt  his  escape  only  on  foot,  was  soon  stopped  by 
some  peasants  who  had  witnessed  what  had  passed.  Dr. 
Bollman  easily  arrived  at  Hoff;  but  not  finding  Lafayette 
there,  lingered  about  the  frontiers  till  the  next  night,  when 
he  too  was  arrested  and  delivered  up  to  the  Austrians.  And 
finally  Lafayette,  having  taken  a  wrong  road  and  pursued  it 
till  his  horse  coul(i  proceed  no  further,  was  stopped  at  the 
village  of  JagersdorfT,  as  a  suspicious  person,  and  detained 
there  till  he  was  recognised  by  an  officer  from  Olnutz,  two 
days  afterwards. 

9.  All  three  of  them  were  brought  back  to  the  citadel  se- 
parately^ and- were  there  separately  confined  without  bein^ 
permitted  to  know  any  thing  of  each  other's  fate.  Mr.  Hu- 
ger was  chained  to  the  fioor,  in  a  small  arched  dungeon, 
about  six  feet  by  eight,  without  light,  and  with  only  bread 
and  water  for  food ;  and  once  in  six  hours,  by  day  and  by 
flight,  the  guard  entered,  and  with  a  lamp,  examined  each 
brick  in  his  cel](^  and  each  link  in  his  chain.  To  his  earnest 
request  to  know  something  of  Dr.  Bollman,  and  to  learn 
whether  Lafayefte  had  escaped,  he  received  no  answer  at 
all.  To  his  more  earnest  request  to  be  permitted  to  send  to 
his  mother  in  America  merely  the  words,  "  I  am  alive," 
signed  with  his  name,  he  received  a  de  refusal.  Indeed, 
at  first,  every  degree  of  brutal  severity  was  practised  towards 
both  of  them,  but  afterwards  this  severity  vvas  relaxed.  The 
two  prisoners  were  placed  nearer  together,  where  they  could 


What  defeated  the  entefprise  <  f  Dr.  Bollman  and  Mr.  Huger  ?  - 
Did  they  succeed  in  escapinoi  —What  was  the  success  of  Lafayette  ? 
— What  was  finally  thoir. fate  1     How  wore  they  treated  at  first? 
What  was  their  tieatnT^nt  afterwards,  and  what  of  their  trial  ? 

28t 


M 


IMPRISONMENT  OF  LAFAYETTE. 


eommunicate,  and  their  trial  for  what,  in  Vienna,  was  mag- 
nified into  a  wide  and  alarming  conspiracy,  was  begun  with 
all  the  tedious  formalities  that  could  be  prescribed  by  Austri- 
an fear  and  caution. 

10.  How  it  would  have  turned,  if  they  had  been  left  en- 
tirely unprotected,  it  is  not  difficult  to  conjecture ;  but  at 
this  crisis  of  their  fate,  they  were  secretly  assisted  by  Count 
Metrowsky,  a  nobleman  living  near  their  prison,  whom  nei- 
thor  of  them  had  ever  seen,  and  who  was  interested  in  them 
only  for  what,  in  the  eyes  of  his  government,  constituted  theii 
crime.  The  means  he  used  to  influence  the  tribunal  that 
judged  them,  may  be  easily  imagined,  since  they  were  so  far 
successful,  that  the  prisoners,  after  having  been  confined  for 
trial  eight  months,  were  sentenced  only  to  a  fortnight's  im- 
prisonment as  their  punishinent,  and  then  released.  A  few 
hours  after  they  lefl  Olmutz,  an  order  came  from  Vienna 
directing  a  new  trial,  which,  under  the  management  of 
the  ministers,  would  of  course  have  ended  very  differently 
from  the  one  managed  by  Count  Metrowsky  ;  but  the  pri- 
soners were  already  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Austrian  dom> 
nions.  Lafayette,  in  the  meanwhile,  was  thrown  back  into 
liis  obscure  and  ignominious  suflferings,  with  hardly  a  hojie 
that  they  could  be  terminated,  except  by  his  death.  During 
the  winter  of  1794-5,  he  was  reduced  to  almost  the  last  ex- 
tremity by  a  violent  fever,  and  yet  was  deprived  of  proper 
attendance,  of  air,  of  suitable  food,  and  of  decent  clothesu 
To  increase  his  misery,  he  was  made  to  believe  that  he  was 
only  reserved  for  a  public  execution,  and  that  his  chivalrous 
deliverers  would  perish  on  the  scaffold  before  his  window; 
while,  at  tlie  same  time,  he  was  not  permitted  to  know 
whether  his  family  were  still  alive,  or  had  fallen  under  the 
revolutionary  axe,  of  which,  during  the  few  days  he  was  out 
of  his  dungeon  he  had  heard  such  appalling  accounts. 

11.  Madame  de  Lafayette,  however,  was  nearer  to  him 
than  he  could  imagine  to  be  possible.  She  had  been  releas- 
ed fVom  prison,  where  she,  too,  had  nearly  perished ;  and 
having  gained  strength  sufficient  for  the  undertaking,  and 
■ent  her  eldest  son  for  safety  to  the  care  of  General  Wasb- 


Who  assisted  Dr.  Bollman  and  Mr.  Huger  ? — What  was  their  stxy. 
ecss  ? — What  took  place  afler  they  Ief>,  Olmut*  ? — What  is  said  of  La* 
fayette  meanwhile  ' — What  of  Madame  de  Jvafnjette  and  family  - 


IMPRISONMENT  OF  LAFAYETTE. 


300 


ington,  she  set  out,  accompanied  by  her  two  young  daugh- 
ters, for  Germany,  all  in  disguise,  and  with  American  pass- 
ports. They  were  landed  at  Altona,  and,  proceeding  im- 
mediately to  Vienna,  obtained  an  audience  of  the  Emperor, 
who  refused  to  liberate  Lafayette,  but,  as  it  now  seems  pro- 
bable, against  the  intentions  of  his  ministers  gave  them  per- 
mission to  join  him  in  his  prison.  They  went  instantly  to 
Olmutz  ;  but  before  ihey  could  enter,  they  were  deprived  of 
whatever  they  had  brought  with  them  to  alleviate  the  miso- 
ries  of  a  dungeon,  and  required,  if  they  should  pass  its  thre- 
shold, never  again  to  leave  it. 

12.  Madame  de  Lafayette's  health  soon  sunk  under  the 
ccmplicated  sufferings  and  privations  of  her  loathsome  im- 
prisonment, and  she  wrote  to  Vienna  for  permission  to  pass 
a  week  in  the  capital,  to  breathe  purer  air,  and  obtain  medi* 
cal  assistance.  Two  months  elapsed  before  any  answer  was 
returned ;  and  then  she  was  told,  that  no  objection  would  be 
made  to  her  leaving  her  husband  ;  but  that,  if  she  should  do 
80,  she  must  never  return  to  him.  She  immediately  and 
formally  signed  her  consent  and  determination  "  to  share  hia 
captivity  in  all  its  details ;"  and  never  afterwards  made  an 
effort  to  leave  him.  Madame  de  Stael  has  well  observed, 
when  on  this  point  of  the  history  of  the  French  Revolution ; 
— "  antiquity  offers  nothing  more  admirable  than  the  con- 
duct of  General  Lafayette,  his  wife,  and  his  daughters,  in  the 
prison  of  Olmutz." 

13.  One  more  attempt  was  made  to  effect  the  liberation 
of  Lafayette,  and  it  was  made  in  the  place  and  in  the  way 
that  might  have  been  expected.  When  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  refused  the  liberty  of  her  husband  to  Madame  de 
Lafayette,  he  told  her  **  that  his  hands  were  tied."  In  thia 
remark,  the  Emperor  could,  of  course,  allude  to  no  laW  or 
constitution  of  his  empire,  and  therefore  his  hands  could  be 
tied  only  by  engagements  with  his  allies  in  the  war  against 
France.  England  was  one  of  these  allies,  and  General  Fitz- 
patrick,  in  the  House  of  Commons,  made  a  motion  for  an 
inquiry  into  the  case,  in  which  he  was  supported  by  Colonel 
Tarleton,  who  had   fought  against  Lafayette  in  Virginia. 


What  permission  did  the  Emperor  give  them,  and  what  was  re- 
quired of  them  P — Why  did  Madame  de  Lafayette  write  to  Vienne 
and  what  answor  did  she  receive  ? 


i^p 


310 


THE  WISE  CHOICE. 


Afterwards,  on  the  16th  of  December,  1796,  General  Pitz* 
Patrick  renewed  his  attempt  more  solemnly,  and  was  sup- 
ported in  it  by  Wilberforce,  by  Sheridan,  and  by  Fox,  in  one 
of  his  most  powerful  and  happy  speeches  ;  but  the  motion  was 
lost.  One  effect,  however,  unquestionably  followed  from  it : 
— a  solemn  and  vehement  discussion  on  Lafayette's  impri- 
sonment, in  which  the  Emperor  of  Austria  found  no  apolo> 
gist,  had  been  held  in  the  face  of  all  Europe,  and  all  Europe, 
of  course,  was  informed  of  his  sufferings,  in  the  most  solemn 
and  authentic  way. 

14.  When,  therefore.  General  Clarke  was  sent  from  Paris  to 
join  Bonaparte  in  Italy,  and  negotiate  a  peace  with  Austria, 
it  was  understood  that  he  received  orders  from  the  Directory 
to  stipulate  for  the  deliverance  of  the  prisoners  in  Olmutz, 
since  it  was  impossible  for  France  to  consent  to  such  an  out- 
rage on  the  rights  of  citizenship,  as  would  be  implied  by  their 
further  detention.  On  opening  the  negotiation,  an  attempt 
was  made  on  the  part  of  Austria,  to  compel  Lafayette  to  re- 
ceive  his  freedom  on  conditions  prescribed  to  him  ;  but  this 
he  distinctly  refused ;  and,  in  a  document  that  has  often 
been  published,  declared  with  a  firmness,  which  we  can 
hardly  believe  would  have  survived  such  sufferings,  that  he 
would  never  accept  his  liberation  in  any  way,  that  should 
compromise  his  rights  and  duties,  either  as  a  Frenchman  or 
as  an  American  citizen,  Bonaparte  often  said,  that,  of  all 
the  difficulties  in  this  protracted  negotiation  with  the  coali* 
tion,  the  greatest  was  the  delivery  of  Lafayette.  He  was, 
however,  at  last  released  with  his  family  on  the  25th  of  Au- 
gust, 1797  ;  Madame  de  Lafayette  a.nd  her  daughters  hav- 
ing been  confined  twenty-two  months,  and  Lafayette  him- 
self five  years,  in  a  disgraceful  spirit  of  vulgar  cruelty  and 
revenge,  of  which  modern  history  can  afford,  we  trust,  very 
few  examples. 


THE  WISE  CHOICE. 

I  WOULD  not  wear  the  warrior's  wreath  ; 
I  would  not  court  his  crown  ; 

What  effect  was  prodtu-ed  by  the  motion  made  in  the  House  of 
Commons  for  the  liberation  of  Lafa^-etle  ? — When  was  Lafayette  re- 
leased, and  how  long  had  he  been  confined  ? 


A5PALLAH  AND  SABAT. 

For  love  and  virtue  sink  beneath 
His  dark  and  vengeful  frown. 

I  would  not  seek  my  fame  to  build 

On  glory's  dizzy  height ; 
Her  temple  is  with  orphans  fiU'd— 

Blood  soils  her  sceptre  bright 

I  would  not  wear  the  diadem, 

By  folly  priz*d  so  dear  ; 
For  want  and  wo  hath  bought  each  gem, 

And  every  pearl's  a  tear. 

I  would  not  heap  the  golden  chest, 

That  sordid  spirits  crave  ; 
For  every  grain  (by  penury  curst,) 

Is  gathered  from  the  grave 

No  ; — let  my  wreath  unsullied  be — 

My  fame  be  virtuous  youth  ; 
My  wealth  be  kindness,  charity — 

My  diadem  be  truth. 


»U 


ABD ALLAH  AND  SABAT. 

1.  Abd ALLAH  and  Sabat  were  intimate-  friends,  and  being 
young  men  of  family  in  Arabia,  they  agreed  to  travel  toge- 
ther, and  to  visit  foreign  countries.  They  were  both  zealous 
Mahometans.  Sabat  was  son  of  Ibrahim  Sabat,  a  noble 
family  of  the  line  of  Beni  Sabat,  who  trace  their  pedigree  to 
Mahomet.  The  two  friends  left  Arabia,  after  paying  their 
adorations  at  the  tomb  of  their  prophet  at  Mecca,  and  tra- 
velled through  Persia,  and  thence  to  Cabul.  Abdallah  was 
appointed  to  an  office  of  state  under  Zemaun  Shah,  king  of 
the  Cabul ;  and  Sabat  left  him  there,  and  proceeded  on  a 
tour  through  Tartary. 

2.  While  Abdallah  remained  at  Cabul,  he  was  converted 
to  the  Christian  faith  by  the  perusal  of  a  Biblr  (as  is  sup- 
posed) belonging  to  a  Christian  from  Armenia,  then  residing 

Where  did  Abdallah  and  Sabat  belong  ? — What  was  their  religion  ? 
Whare  andb^r  what  means  did  Abdallah  become  a  Christian  ? 


% 


312 


ABDALLAH  AND  SABAT. 


at  Cabul.  In  the  Mahometan  states,  it  is  death  for  a  man 
of  rank  to  become  a  Christian.  Abdallah  endeavored  for  a 
time  to  conceal  his  conversion,  but  finding  it  no  longer  pos- 
sible, he  determined  to  flee  to  some  of  the  Christian  churches 
near  the  Caspian  sea.  He  accordingly  left  Cabul  in  disguise, 
and  had  gained  the  rjreat  city  of  Bochara,  in  Tartary,  when 
he  was  met  in  the  streets  of  that  city  by  his  friend  Sabat, 
who  immediately  reco^rnised  him. 

3.  Sabat  had  heard  of  his  conversion  and  flight,  and  was 
filled  with  <  indignation  at  his  conduct.  Abdallah  knew  his 
danger,  and  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Sabat.  He  confess- 
ed that  he  was  a  Christian,  and  implored  him,  by  the  sacred 
tic  of  their  former  friendship,  to  let  him  escape  with  his  life. 
*'  Cut,  sir,"  said  Sabat,  when  relating  the  story  himself,  "  I 
had  no  pity.  I  caused  my  servants  to  seize  him,  and  I  de- 
livcred  him  up  to  Morad  Shah,  king  of  Bochara. 

4.  "  He  was  sentenced  to  die,  and  a  herald  went  through 
the  city  of  Bochara,  announcing  the  time  of  his  execution. 
An  immense  multitude  attended,  and  the  chief  men  of  the 
city.  I  also  went  and  stood  near  to  Abdallah.  He  was 
offered  his  life  if  he  would  abjure  Christ,  the  executioner 
standing  by  him  with  his  sword  in  his  hand.  *  No,'  said  he, 
(as  if  the  proposition  were  impossible  to  be  complied  with,) 

I  cannot  abjure  Christ.'  Then  one  of  his  hands  was  cut 
off  at  the  wrist.  He  stood  firm,  his  arm  hanging  by  his  side, 
with  but  little  motion. 

5.  "  A  physician,  by  desire  of  the  king,  offered  to  heal  the 
wound,  if  he  would  recant.  He  made  no  answer,  but  looked 
up  steadfastly  towards  heaven,  like  Stephen  the  first  martyr, 
his  eyes  streaming  with  tears.  He  did  not  look  with  anger 
towards  mc.  He  looked  at  me,  but  it  was  benignly,  and  with 
the  countenance  of  forgiveness.  His  other  hand  was  then 
cut  off.  But,  sir,"  said  Sabat,  in  his  imperfect  English,  "  he 
never  changed^  he  never  changed.  And  when  he  bowed  his 
head  to  receive  the  blow  of  death,  all  Bochara  seemed  to  say, 
*  What  new  thing  is  this  V  " 

What  is  the  consequence  if  a  Mal^ometan  of  rank  becomes  a  Chris* 
tian  ? — Bv  what  means  was  Abdallah  delivered  to  the  king  of  Bochara 
fcur  punishment  ? 


THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

THE  LAND  OF  REST. 

There  is  a  calm  for  those  vuho  weep^ 
A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found  ; 
And  while  the  mould'ring  ashes  sleep, 

Low  in  the  ground — 

The  Soul,  of  origin  divine, 
GOD*s  glorious  image,  freed  from  clay, 
In  heaven's  eternal  sphere  shall  shine, 
A  star  of  day ! 

The  Sun  is  but  a  spark  of  fire, 
A  transient  meteor  in  the  sky  ; 
The  Soul,  immortal  as  its  Sire, 

SHALL  NEVER— DIE. 


ai3 


THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

1.  The  history  of  the  French  revolution,  and  of  the  efents 
whr  ted  to  it,  has  hitherto  been  written  only  by  party  zeal- 
ots .  those  of  no  very  commanding  talents  or  extended 
views.  When  hereafter  its  Tacitus  shall  arise,  what  subjects 
will  it  afford  for  hi^  philosophy  and  for  his  eloquence  !  Vir- 
tue and  vice  mixed  in  mad  confusion ;  the  basest  passions 
and  the  noblest  feelings,  on  all  sides,  and  often  in  the  same 
breast,  struggling  together  for  the  mastery. — France  made 
glorious  in  a  thousand  hard^fought  fields  by  the  universai 
and  unrivalled  valor  of  Frenchmen. — ^France  rendered  up  a 
trembling  victim  to  tyrant  after  tyrant,  by  the  Universal  cow- 
ardice of  Frenchmen. — The  feniale  character  in  its  greatest 
elevation  and  in  its  deepest  depravity. — Woman,  now  dread- 
ful with  fiend-like  intelligence  and  malignity,  and  now,  ex- 
alted into  more  than  Roman  heroism  by  higher  principles 
than  Pagan  antiquity  ever  knew. 

2.  Throughout  the  long  and  dreadful  narrative,  the  histo- 
rian will  never  lose  sight  of  the  meek  and  steady  virtues  of 
the  patriot  king.  He  will  describe  him  in  early  youth,  in  the 
midst  of  a  corrupt  and  sensual  court,  forming  his  conscience 
and  regulating  his  life  by  the  mild  and  holy  precepts  of  Fe- 
n«lon ;  surrounded  by  bigoted  or  heartless  poIitician<;,  yot 


SILVER  AND  GOLD. 

lowing  with  affection  for  kis  people,  and  eagerly  co-operat  • 
ing  with  the  enlightened  friends  of  freedom  in  the  reform 
of  abuses,  the  limitation  of  his  own  powers,  and  the  esta- 
blishment of  popular  rightp.  He  will  reiaie,  that  he  staked 
every  thing  on  this  vast  and  bold  experiment  of  regulated 
liberty  and  representative  government ;  and  at  last  volunta- 
rily offered  up  his  life  in  that  cause,  rather  than  purchase  it 
at  the  expense  of  the  blood  of  his  countrymen.  He  will 
portray  him,  as  the  danger  thickened,  summoning  all  his  vir- 
tues to  his  heart,  and  rising  greater  and  greater  in  the  hour 
of  calamity. 

3.  Finally,  the  historian  will  paint  the  sorrows  and  the 
consolations  of  his  prison — or  rather,  he  will  tell  that  touching- 
story  in  the  plain  words  of  those  who  saw  and  loved  him  to 
the  last ;  and  then,  as  he  follows  the  king  to  the  place  of  his. 
death,  accompanied  by  his  last  and  faithful  friend,  the  vene- 
rable Abbe  Edgeworth,  he  will  insensibly  catch  that  good 
man*s  pious  enthusiasm,  and  with  him,  forgetting  the  wrongs 
of  the  patriot  and  the  sorrows  of  the  husband  and  the  father, 
in  his  veneration  of  the  saint  and  the  martyr,  he  will  exclaim 
at  the  foot  of  the  scaflbld,  "  Go,  Son  of  St.  Louis,  ascend  to 
heaven." 


SILVER  AND  GOLD. 

1.  The  circulation  of  gold  and  silver  in  different  ages  and 
in  different  parts  of  the  world,  is  a  curious  and  interesting, 
but,  in  some  respects,  a  difficult  subject  of  investigation.  It 
appears  that  those  metals  v;ere  used  as  a  medium  of  com- 
merce so  early  as  in  the  time  of  Abraham,  and  that  they 
served  as  ornameiifal  articles  of  dress,  in  a  period  little  less 
remote  ;  and,  indeed,  although  we  have  no  authentic  infor- 
mation relative  to  this  particular,  it  is  extremely  probable  that 
gold  and  silver  were  used  as  ornaments  before  they  were 
established  as  a  medium  of  commerce,  and  th"?  standard 
whereby  to  estimate  the  comparative  value  of  other  articles. 

2.  We  may  collect  from  sacred  history,  that  gold  and  sil- 
ver, as  well  as  divers  kinds  of  precious  stones,  were  suffi- 

How  oarly  is  it  known  that  silver  and  gold  wero  used  as  a  medium 
of  commereo .'' 


(SILVER  AIMD  QOLa 


3j6 


ciently  plentirul  in  Egypt  at  the  time  of  the  egress  of  the 
Israelites;  and  the  valuable  offerings  of  the  people,  for  the 
construction  of  the  taliernacle,  with  all  the  rich  materials  of 
which  that  structure  was  composed,  as  well  as  those  used  for 
the  high  priest's  garments,  and  in  the  whole  apparatus  of  re- 
ligion, A^ere  furnished  out  of  those  treasures  which  they  had 
carried  out  of  that  country ;  for  no  other  channel  can  be 
discovered,  or  even  with  any  appearance  of  probability  ima- 
gined, by  which  the  Israelites  could  at  that  period  be  supplied 
with  such  plenty  of  those  valuable  commodities ;  for  they 
had  not  then  obtained  any  wealth  by  the  plunder  of  enemies ; 
the  spoils  of  Midi^n  being  the  first  considerable  acquisition 
of  this  kind  after  Uieir  departure  from  Egypt ;  and  the  Midi- 
anitish  war  was  an  event  posterior  to  the  construction  of  the 
tabernacle. 

3.  In  regard  to  commerce,  there  is  no  where  any  mention 
made,  nor  the  least  appearance  of  any  being  carried  on  by 
the  Israelites,  whereby  they  could  have  obtained  such  a 
stock  of  valuable  materials,  so  soon  after  their  entrance  into 
the  wilderness.  In  their  conquests  of  the  land  of  Canaan, 
they  appear  to  have  sometimes  made  a  considerable  booty  ; 
but  it  is  not  until  the  reign  of  David  that  we  observe  that 
profusion  of  wealth,  which  seems  astonishing  in  a  period  of 
such  remote  antiquity.  And  the  abundance  of  gold  and 
silver  which  Jerusalem  displayed  in  the  succeeding  reign  of 
Solomon,  has  staggered  the  credulity  of  some  readers  of  the 
Jewish  nation. 

4.  It  appears,  however,  that  those  metals  were  at  that  timo 
very  plentiful  in  Egypt,  and  in  several  countries  of  Asia. 
The  history  of  David's  wars  and  conquests  makes  it  appear 
evident  that  very  considerable  quantities  of  gold  and  silver 
had,  by  some  means,  been  introduced  into  the  countries  situ- 
ated between  the  Euphrates  and  the  Levant  Sea ;  and  it 
seems  that  this  influx  of  wealth  must  have  been,  in  a  great 
measure,  the  effect  of  the  trade  carried  on  by  the  Tyrians  and 
Egyptians  with  the  eastern  and  southern  parts  of  the  world. 

5.  Still  no  historical  documents  exist,  which  can  give  us 
any  certain  information  by  what  channel  those  vast  quantities 
of  gold  and  silver  had  entered  into  the  countries  to  which 


At  wkat  time  in  the  Jewish  history  was  there  first  an  ineredlblt 
qnaatitj  of  gold  and  silver  '     $9 


■■n 


816 


SILVER  AND  GOLD. 


allusion  was  made ;  and  we  are  equally  left  in  the  duik  re- 
specting the  parts  from  whence  those  riches  were  brought, 
as  there  cannot  be  found  in  history,  either  ancient  or  modern, 
sacred  or  profane,  the  least  hint  that  any  mines  of  those  m^ 
tals  existed  in  any  of  those  countries ;  nor  does  history  inform 
us  in  what  part  of  the  world  they  were  found. 

6.  Id  this,  as  in  many  other  historical  subjects^  we  are  en- 
tirely left  to  conjecture ;  and  the  most  probable  conjecture 
is,  that  the  gold  and  silver  of  the  ancient  world  was  the  pro- 
duce of  Africa,  where  those  metals,  especially  gold,  is  l<;nown 
to  abound,  both  in  the  interior  and  the  eastern  parts  ;  espe- 
cially in  Monomopata,  Monoemugi,  and  Sofala ;  which  ;ast 
is,  by  many,  supposed  to  be  the  land  of  Ophir,  to  which  So- 
lomon's fleets  used  to  sail ;  although  others,  with  less  proba- 
bility, suppose  it  to  have  been  the  island  of  Ceylon,  or  some 
other  part  of  India,  or  the  oriental  islands. 

7.  In  whatever  parts  of  Africa  or  -Asia  these  metals  were 
found,  it  is,  however,  highly  probable,  that  they  were  intro- 
duced into  Egypt,  and  the  western  parts  of  Asia,  by  the  Ara- 
bian, Egyptian,  and  Tyrian  merchants.  The  Egyptians,  es- 
pecially, might  bring  a  considerable  part  of  them  by  their 
caravans,  which,  from  time  immemorial,  used  to  travel  into 
Ethiopia,  under  which  name  all  the  interior  and  southern 
parts  of  Africa  were  formerly  comprehended  ;  as  the  Ethio- 
pian caravans  in  like  manner  traded  into, Egypt. 

8.  In  the  flourishing  ages  of  Greece,  gold  and  silver  began 
to  be  plentifully  introduced  into  that  country,  particularly 
after  the  conquest  of  Persia  by  Alexander,  which  caused  the 
wealth  of  that  empire  to  circulate  westward.  All  this  while 
Rome  was  exceedingly  poor,  and  her  warlike  citizens  pos- 
sessed a  very  small  quantity  of  those  valuable  metals,  until 
the  conquest  of  Macedonia,  and  the  Grecian  kingdoms  of 
Asia,  caused  the  riches  of  the  east  to  flow  into  her  bosom. 
After  the  Goths  and  other  northern  nations  began  to  make 
successful  inroads  into  the  Roman  empire,  the  plunder  of  its 
provinces  put  them  in  possession  of  part  of  its  ricl  es ;  and 
gold  and  silver,  with  which  they  had  before  been  almost 
wholly  unacquainted,  began  by  those  predatory  wars  to  be 
introduced  among  them. 

Whore  ig  it  probable  that  the  gold  and  silver  of  the  ancient  world 
was  obtained  ? — How  were  they  probably  introduced  into  Egypt  and 
Ihr.  wtsRtern  part  of  A»ia  <' 


SILVER  AND  GOLD. 


317 


9.  After  the  total  subversion  of  the  western  empire,  those 
riches,  which  Rome  had  accumulated  by  so  many  centuries 
of  successful  rapine,  were  by  degrees  diffused  over  all  Eu- 
rope, and  gold  and  silver  introduced  into  the  regions  of  the 
north.  The  abundance  of  gold  and  silver,  which,^  as  history 
informs  us,  was  displayed  with  profusion,  in  the  palaces,  the 
di^ss,  the  arms,  Stc.  of  the  ancients,  seems  astonishing,  and 
almost  incredible,  to  modern  readers  ;  and  a  person  who  ex- 
amines the  subject  only  in  a  superficial  manner,  is  ready  to 
ask  tliis  question — What  is  become  of  that  abundance  of 
those  metals  which  was  displayed  in  certain  countries ;  for 
example,  in  Jerusalem  and  Judah,  in  ancient  times  ?  And 
why  do  we  not  see  the  same  profusion  of  gold  and  silver  in 
the  present  age,  especially  as  the  mines  of  America  have 
p|oduced  such  abundance  1 

10.  The  question  is  not  of  a  difficult  solution,  and  the  an- 
swer is  obvious.  In  the  ages  of  antiquity,  gold  and  silver 
were  not  so  extensively  diffused,  nor  so  generally  circulated, 
as  at  present.  In  the  times  here  under  consideration,  and 
in  the  countries  of  which  our  histories  treat,  wealth  was  con- 
centrated within  a  contracted  circle.  Egypt,  and  that  small 
district  of  Asia  which  extended  from  the  Levant  sea,  and 
the  Grecian  Archipelago,  to  the  Euphrates,  with  Assyria 
and  Chaiiea,  were  the  only  countries  where  history,  either 
sacred  or  profane,  mentions  any  such  abundance  of  gold  and 
silver. 

11.  Those  metals  had  not  then  circulated  any  farther  from 
the  countries  where  they  were  produced,  and  they  were 
lodged  in  a  few  hands.  They  remained  chiefly  among  the 
princes  and  grandees.  Commerce  had  not  at  that  period 
branched  out  into  a  sufficient  number  of  ramifications  to  dis- 
seminate them  among  ihe  people  at  large.  This  is  the  reason 
why  such  a  profusion  of  them  was  seen  in  some  particular 
palaces,  and  with  some  particular  persons. 

12.  We  read  of  the  importation  of  those  metals  into  the 
Isi  aclitish  dominions  by  Solomon's  fleets ;  but  it  is  highly 
probable,  that  this  trade  vvas  monopolized  by  the  crown ; 
and,  notwithstanding  th«  extraordinary  display  of  wealth  in 
Jeruraletn,  we  are  not  to  suppose,  that  so  great  a  quantity  of 


What  has  become  of  tliat  abundance  of  gold  and  tilver  which  wa.i 
dipplayed  in  Bome  ancient  nations  P 


3J8 


THE  STAR  IN  THE  EAST. 


gold  and  silver  was  in  circulation  among  the  farmen,  tradee^ 
men,  and  mechanics  of  Israel,  as  among  those  of  several 
European  countries ;  nor  that  the  whole  quantity  accumu* 
lated  in  Solomon's  kingdom  would  bear  any  comparison  with 
the  amount  of  the  circulating  cash  of  England  and  France. 
13.  The  wealth  then  accumulated  in  one  narrow  corner, 
was  afterwards  dispersed  among  the  Persians,  then  amoUg 
the  Greeks  and  Carthaginians,  next  among  the  Romans ;  and 
at  last  throughout  all  Europe,  where  no  gold  or  silver  had 
ever  been  disseminated  before.  The  treasures,  which  ap- 
peared immense  when  concentrated  within  a  narrow  space, 
became  small,  when  divided  into  so  many  portions,  and  dis- 
persed into  so  many  countries ;  and  this  circumstance  made 
gold  and  silver  extremely  scarce,  which  had  seemed  so  plen- 
tiful at  a  far  more  early  period.  Gold  was  indeed  so  scarce, 
that  none  was  ever  coined  in  England  before  the  eighteenth 
year  of  Edward  the  Third,  A.  D.  1345 ;  nor  any  i^lver  but 
pennies,  half-pence,  and  farthings. 


THE  STAR  IN  THE  EAST. 

The  night  w^s  moonless — Judah's  shepherds  kept 
Their  starlight  watch — their  flocks  around  them  slept* 
To  heaven's  blue  fields  their  wakeful  eyes  were  turn'd. 
And  to  the  fires  that  there  eternal  burn'd. 
Those  azure  regions  had  been  peopled  long, 
With  Fancy's  children,  by  the  sons  of  song-^ 
And  there,  the  simple  shepherd,  conning  o'er 
His  humble  pittance  of  Chaldean  lore, 
Saw,  in  the  stillness  of  a  starry  night, 
The  Swan  and  Eagle  wing  their  silent  flight  ;t 

*  Seo  Luke,  ii.  8 — 15. 

t  For  tlio  lielp  of  those  wholly  nnacquainted  with  astrononiy  it  is 
proper  to  observe,  that  tlio  Swan,  the  Eagle,  Berenice's  lock,  J^oOtes, 
the  Pleiades,  the  Lyr3,  and  Auriga  or  the  Charioteer,  are  the  names 
of  constellations,  or  the  parts  of  constellations,  visible  in  the  northern 
henii8phore<— of  course,  in  Judoa. — Cynosure  is  the  classical  name  of 
the  Poleatar. 


Why  do  gold  and  silvtr  now  appear  leas  plenty  than  thoy  did  ta 
aneienfc  timee  f 


BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR. 


819 


And,  from  their  s^  ingled  pinions,  as  they  flew, 

On  Israel's  vales  of  verdure  shower  the  dew — 

Saw  there,  the  brillic^nt  gems,  that  nightly  flare, 

In  the  thin  mist  of  Berenice's  hair ; 

And  there,  Bootes  roll  his  lucid  wain, 

On  sparkling  wheels,  along  the  ethereal  plain  ; 

And  there,  the  Pleiades,  in  tuneful  gyre, 

Pursue  for  ever  the  star-studded  Lyre ; 

And  there,  with  bickej-ing  lash,  heaven's  Charioteer 

Urge  round  the  Cynosure  his  bright  career. 

While  thus  the  shepherds  watch'd  the  host  of  night, 
O'er  heaven's  blue  concave  flashed  a  sudden  light. 
The  unrolling  glory  spread  its  folds  divine, 
O'er  the  green  hills  and  vales  of  Palestine ; 
And  lo !  descending  angels,  hovering  there, 
Stretch'd  their  l<^se  wings,  and  in  the  purple  air, 
Hung  o'er  the  sleepless  guardians  of  the  fold ; — 
When  that  high  anthem,  clear,  and  strong,  and  bold. 
Oh  wavy  paths  of  trembling  ether  rah— 
**  Glory  to  Qod^-Benevolence  to  man — 
Peace  to  the  world ;" — and  in  full  concert  came, 
From  silver  tubes,  and  harps  of  golden  frame, 
The  loud  and  sweet  response,  whose  choral  strain! 
Lingered  and  languished  on  Judea's  plains. 
Yon  living  lamps,  charm'd  from  their  chambers  bluOj 
By  airs  so  heavenly,  from  the  skies  withdrew^^- 
AH  t — all,  but  one,  that  hung  and  burn'd  alone, 
And  with  mild  lustre  over  Bethlehem  shone. 
Chaldea's  sages  saw  that  orb  afar. 
Glow  unextinguished ; — 'twas  Salvation's  Star. 


ly  it  is 
Pootes, 
nnmo« 
)rlhern 
lameof 


didm 


BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR. 

L  Nelson's  column  was  steered  about  two  points  more 
to  the  north  than  Collingwood's,  in  order  to  cut  ofi"  the  ette- 
my's  escape  into  Cadiz — ^the  lee  line  was,  therefore,  first  en* 
gaged.  "  See,"  cried  Nelson,  pointing  to  the  Royal  Sove- 
reign, as  she  steered  right  for  the  centre  of  the  enemy's  line 


i  • 


320 


BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR 


ii 


cut  through  it,  astern  of  the  Santa  Anna  three  decker,  and 
engaged  her  at  the  muzzb  of  her  guns  on  her  starboard  side 
— ''  See  how  that  noble  fellow,  CoTlingwood,  carries  his  ship 
into  action  !"  CoUingwood  delighted  in  being  first  in  the 
icat  of  the  fire  ;  and  knowing  the  feelings  of  his  command- 
er, and  old  friend,  turned  to  his  captain,  and  exclaimed — 
"  Rotherham,  what  would  Nelson  give  to  be  here  ?"  Both 
of  these  brave  officers,  perhaps,  at  this  moment  thought  of 
Nelson  with  gratitude,  for  a  circumstance  which  had  occurred 
on  the  preceding  day.  Admiral  CoUingwood,  with  some  of 
the  captains,  having  gone  on  board  the  Victory,  to  receive 
instructions,  Nelson  inquired  of  him  where  his  captain  was  ] 
and  was  told  in  reply  that  they  were  not  upon  good  terms 
with  each  other.  "  Terms  !"  said  Nelson ; — "  good  terms 
with  each  other  !"  Immediately  he  sent  a  boat  for  captain 
Rotherham ;  led  him,  as  soon  as  he  arrived,  to  CoUingwood, 
and  sayingV  "  Look,  yonder  are  the  enetny  I"  bade  theia 
shake  hands,  like  Englishmen. 

2.  The  enemy  continued  to  fire  a  gun  at  a  time  at  tho 
Victory,  till  they  saw  that  a  shot  had  passed  through  her 
main-top  gallant  sail ;  then  they  opened  their  broadsides, 
aiming  chieifly  at  her  rigging,  in  the  hope  of  disabling  her 
before  she  could  close  with  them.  Nelson,  as  usual,  had 
hoisted  several  flags,  lest  one  should  be  shot  away.  The  ene- 
my showed  no  colors  till  late  in  the  action,  when  they  began 
to  fee)  th6  nece^^ity  of  havihg  them  to  strike.  For  this  rea- 
son, the  Santissima  Trinidad,  Nelson's  old  acquaintance,  as 
he  used  to  call  her,  was  distinguished  only  by  het  four  decks ; 
and  to  the  bow  of  this  opponent  he  ordered  the  Victory  to  be 
steered.  Meantime,  an  incessant  raking  fire  was  kept  up 
upon  the  Victbi-y.  The  admiral's  secretary  was  one  of  the 
6rst  who  fell — he  was  killed  by  a  cannon  shot  ^vhile  convers 
ing  with  Hardy. 

3.  Captain  Adair,  of  the  marines,  with  the  help  of  a  sailor, 
endeavored  to  remove  tjie  body  from  Nelson's  sight,  who  had 
a  great  regatd  for  Mr.  Scott ;  but  he  anxiously  asked — "  Is 
that  poor  Scott  that's  gone  ?"  and  being  informed  that  it  was 
indeed  so,  exclaimed— "  Poor  fellow  !"  Presently  a  double- 
hladed  shot  struck  a  party  of  marines,  and  killed  eight  of 
them — upon  which  Nelson  immediately  desired  captain  Adaii 

, i if» •  .  .  M  ,  ll  ,  ■ 

In  what  ship  was  lord  Nelson  ? 


BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR. 


d2l 


to  disperse  his  men  round  the  ship,  that  they  might  not  suffer 
80  much  from  being  together^  A  few  minutes  afterwards,  a 
shot  struck  the  fore  brace  bits  on  the  quarter  deck,  and 
passed  between  Nelson  and  Hardy,  a  splinter  from  the  bit 
tearing  off  Hardy's  buckle,  and  bruising  his  foot.  Both 
stopped,  and  looked  anxiously  at  each  other,  each  supposing 
the  other  to  be  wounded.  Nelson  then  smiled,  and  said — 
*'  This  is  too  warm  work,  Hardy,  to  last  long." 

4.  The  Victory  had  not  yet  returned  a  single  gun — fifty 
of  her  men  had  been  by  this  time  killed  or  wounded,  and  her 
main-top-mast,  with  all  her  studding  sails,  and  their  booms, 
shot  away.  Nelson  declared,  that  in  all  his  battles,  he  had 
seen  nothing  which  surpassed  the  cool  courage  of  his  crew 
on  this  occasion.  At  four  minutes  past  twelve,  she  opened 
her  fire  from  both  sides  of  her  deck.  It  was  not  possible  to 
break  the  enemy's  line,  withotit  running  on  board  one  of  their 
8hips>-Hardy  informed  him  of  this,  and  asked  which  he 
would  prefer.  Nelson  replied — "  Takje  your  choice,  Hardy^ 
it  does  not  signify  much."  The  master  was  then  ordered  to 
put  the  helm  to  port,  and  the  Victory  ran  on  board  the  Re- 
doubtable, just  as  her  tiller-ropes  were  shot  away.  The 
French  ship  received  her  with  a  broadside ;  then  instantly 
let  down  her  lower  deck  ports,  for  fear  of  being  boarded 
through  them,  and  never  afterwards  fired  a  great  gun  during 
the  action.  Her  tops,  like  those  of  all  the  enemy's  ships, 
were  filled  with  riflemen.  Nelson  never  placed  musketry  in 
his  tops ;  he  had  a  strong  dislike  to  the  practice  ;  not  mere- 
ly because  it  endangers  setting  fire  to  the  sails,  but  also  be- 
cause it  is  a  murderous  sort  of  warfare,  by  which  individuals 
may  suffer,  and  a  commander  now  and  then  be  picked  off, 
but  which  can  never  decide  the  fate  of  a  general  engage- 
ment. 

5.  Captain  Harvey,  in  the  Temeraire,  fell  en  board  the 
Redoubtable  on  the  other  side.  Another  enemy  was  in  like 
manner  on  board  the  Temeraire — so  that  these  four  ships 
formed  as  compact  a  tier  as  if  they  had  been  moored  toge- 
ther, their  heads  all  lying  the  same  way.  The  lieutenants 
of  the  Victory,  seeing  this,  depressed  their  guns  of  the  mid- 
dle and  lower  decks,  and  fired  with  a  diminished  charge,  lest 


How  many  of  the  Victory's  crew  were  killed  before  she  commenced 
firing  ? — On  board  of  what  French  ship  did  the  Victory  run  ? 


323 


BATTLE  OP  TRAFALGAH. 


the  shot  should  pass  through,  and  injure  the  Temeraire. 
And  because  there  was  danger  that  the  Redoubtable  might 
take  fire  from  the  lower  deck  guns,  the  muzzles  of  which 
touched  her  side  when  they  were  run  out,  the  fireman  of  each 
gun  stood  ready  with  a  bucket  of  water ;  which,  as  soon  as 
♦»he  gun  was  discharged,  he  dashed  into  the  hole  made  by 
the  shot.  An  incessant  fire  was  kept  up  from  the  Victory 
from  both  sides  ;  her  larboard  guns  playing  upop  the  Bucen- 
taure  and  the  huge  Santissima  Trinidad, 

6.  It  had  been  part  of  Nelson's  prayer,  that  the  British 
fleet  might  be  distinguished  by  humanity  in  the  victory  which 
he  expected.  Setting  an  example  himself,  he  twice  gave 
orders  to  cease  firing  upon  the  Redoubtable,  supposing  that 
she  had  struck,  because  her  great  guns  were  silent ;  for,  a? 
she  carried  no  flag,  there  was  no  means  of  instantly  ascer- 
taining the  fact.  From  this  ship,  which  he  had  thus  twice 
Spared,  ha  received  his  death.  A  ball,  fired  from  her  mizen 
top,  which,  in  the  then  situation  of  the  two  vessels,  was  not 
tnore  than  fifteen  yards  from  that  part  of  the  deck  where  he 
was  standing,  struck  the  epaulet  on  his  left  shoulder,  about 
a  quarter  after  one,  j<ist  in  the  heat  of  the  action.  He  fell 
upon  his  face,  on  the  Lpot  which  was  covered  with  his  poor 
■ecretary's  blood. 

,  7.  Hardy,  who  was  a  few  steps  from  him,  turning  round, 
saw  three  men  raising  him  up.  "  They  have  done  for  me  at 
last.  Hardy,"  said  he.  "  I  hope  not !"  cried  Hardy,  **  Yes," 
he  replied,  "my  back  bone  is  shot  through."  Yet,  even 
now,  not  for  a  moment  losing  his  presence  of  mind,  he  ob- 
served, as  they  were  carrying  him  down  the  ladder,  that  the 
tiller-ropes,  which  had  been  shot  away,  were  not  yet  replac- 
ed ;  and  ordered  that  new  ones  should  be  rove  immediately 
— then,  that  he  might  not  be  seen  by  the  crew,  he  took  out 
his  handkerchief,  and  covered  his  face  and  his  stars.  Had 
he  but  concealed  these  badges  of  honor  from  the  enemy, 
England,  perhaps,  would  not  have  had  cause  to  receive  with 
Sorrow  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Trafalgar. 

8.  The  cockpit  was  crowded  with  wounded  and  dying 
men ;  over  whose  bodies  he  was,  with  some  difficulty,  con- 
veyed and  laid  upon  u  pallet  in  the  midshipmen's  birth.  It 
was  soon  perceived,  upon  examination,  that  his  wound  was 

'*  ■ "  ■■•    '"■  ■■  '  ■         I     -    I .  p  '     ■ ■  ■ 

I^mn  whAnca  was  the  ball  fired  that  struck  Nelson  ? 


liii 


BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR. 


mortal.  This,  however,  was  concealed  from  all  except  cap- 
tain Hardy,  the  chaplain,  find  the  medical  attendants.  He 
himself  being  certain,  from  the  sensation  in  his  back,  and 
the  gush  of  blood  which  he  felt  momentarily  within  his  breast, 
that  no  human  care  could  avail  him,  insisted  that  the  sur- 
geon should  leave  him,  and  attend  to  those  to  whom  he 
might  be  useful ;  "  for,"  said  he,  *'  you  can  do  nothing  for 
me." 

9.  All  that  could  be  done  was  to  fan  him  with  paper,  and 
frequently  to  give  him  lemonade,  to  alleviate  his  intense 
thirst.  He  was  in  great  pain,  and  expressed  much  anxiety 
for  the  event  of  the  action,  which  now  begah  to  declare  it- 
self. As  often  as  a  ship  struck,  the  crew  of  the  Victory 
hurraed;  and  at  every  hurra,  a  visib!*'  expression  of  joy 
gleamed  in  the  eyes,  and  marked  the  cou  tenance  of  the  dy- 
ing hero.  But  he  became  impatient  to  see  captain  Hardy ; 
and  as  that  officer,  though  often  sent  for,  could  not  leave  the 
deck,  Nelson  feared  that  some  fatal  cause  prevented  him, 
and  repeatedly  cried — "  Will  no  one  bring  Hardy  to  me  ?  He 
must  be  killed !  He  is  surely  dead  !" 

10.  An  hour  and  ten  minutes  elapsed,  from  the  time  when 
Nelson  recerved  his  wound,  before  Hardy  could  come  to 
him.  They  shook  hands  in  silence ;  Hardy  in  vain  strug- 
gling to  suppress  the  feelings  of  that  most  painful,  and  yet 
BUblimest  moment.  "  Well,  Hardy,"  daid  Nelson,  *'  How  goes 
the  day  with  us  ?"  "  Very  well,"  replied  Hardy  ;  "  ten  ships 
have  struck ;  but  five  of  their  van  have  tacked,  and  show  an 
intention  of  bearing  down  upon  the  Victory.  I  have  called 
two  or  three  of  our  fresh  ships  round,  and  have  no  doubt  of 
giving  them  a  drubbing."  **  I  hope,"  said  Nelson,  **  none 
of  our  ships  have  struck  ?"  Hardy  answered,  '*  There  is 
no  fear  of  that."  Then,  aiid  not  till  then,  Nelson  spoke  of 
himself.  "  I  am  a  dead  man,  Hardy,"  said  he — *'  I  am  go- 
mg  fast — it  will  dl  be  over  with  me  soon.  Come  nearer  to 
me.  Let  my  dear  lady  Hamilton  have  my  hair,  and  all  other 
things  belonging  to  me."  Hardy  observed,  that  he  hoped 
Mr.  Beatty  could  yet  hold  but  some  prospect  of  life.  ."  Oh 
no  !"  he  replied,  "  it  is  impossible.  My  back  is  shot  through. 
Beatty  will  tell  you  so."  Captain  Hardy  then,  once  more, 
shook  hands  with  him ;  and  with  a  heart  almost  bursting, 
hastened  upon  deck. 

11.  By  this  time,  all  feeling  below  the  breast  was  gone; 


G34 


Battle  of  Trafalgar. 


t 


and  Nelson,  having  made  the  surgeon  ascertain  this,  said  to 
him — "  You  know  I  am  gone.  I  know  it.  I  feel  £<omethiug 
rising  in  my  breast" — putting  his  hand  on  his  left  side — 
**  which  tells  me  so."  And,  upon  Beatty*s  inquiring  whether 
his  pain  was  very  great,  he  replied,  "  So  great,  that  I  wish 
I  was  dead."  "  Yet,"  said  he,  in  a  lower  voice,  "  one  would 
like  to  live  a  little  longer  too !"  And,  after  a  few  minutes, 
in  the  same  under  tone,  he  added — "  What  would  become 
of  poor  lady  Hamilton,  if  she  knew  my  situation  !"  Next  to 
his  country  she  occupied  his  thoughts.  Captain  Hardy, 
some  fifty  minutes  after  he  Jiad  left  the  cockpit,  returned ; 
and  again  taking  the  hand  of  his  dying  friend  and  comman- 
der, fcongratulated  him  6n  having  gained  a  complete  victory. 
How  many  of  the  enemy  were  taken  he  did  not  know,  as  it 
was  impossible  to  perceive  theni  distinctly  ;  but  fourteen  or 
fifteen  at  least. 

12.  '*  That's  well,"  cried  Nelson  ;  "  but  I  bargained  for 
twenty."  And  then,  in  a  stronger  voice,  he  said — **  An- 
chor, Hardy  ;  anchor."  Hardy,  upon  this,  hinted  that  ad- 
miral Collingwood  would  take  upon  himself  the  direction  of 
affairs.  "  Not  while  I  live,  Hardy  !"  said  the  dying  Ndson, 
inefiectually  endeavoring  to  raise  himself  from  his  bed — 
"  Do  you  anchor."  His  previous  order  for  preparing  to  an- 
chor had  shown  how  clearly  he  foresaw  the  necessity  of  this. 
Presently,  calling  Hardy  back,  he  said  to  him,  in  a  low  voice 
— "  Don't  throw  me  overboard" — and  desired  that  he  might 
be  buried  by  his  parents.  Unless  it  should  please  the  king  to 
order  otherwise.  Then,  reverting  to  pnvate  feelings — 
**  Take  care  of  my  dear  lady  Hamilton,  Hardy — take  care 
of  poor  lady  Hamilton."  "  Kiss  me.  Hardy,"  said  he.  Har- 
dy knelt  down,  and  kissed  his  cheek ;  and  Nelson  said, 
"Now  I  am  satisfied.  Thank  God,  I  have  done  my  dutv/* 
Hardy  stood  over  him  in  silence,  for  a  moment  or  two ;  then 
knelt  again,  and  kissed  his  forehead.  "  Who  is  that?"  said 
Nelson  ;  and  being  informed,  he  replied,  "  God  bless  you, 
Hardy.".    And  Hardy  then  left  him — for  ever. 

13.  Nelson  now  desired  to  be  turned  upon  his  right  side, 
and  said — "  I  wish  I  had  not  left  the  deck  ;  for  I  shall  soon 
be  gone."  Death  was,  indeed,  rapidly  approaching.  He 
said  to  his  chaplain—"  Doctor,  I  have  not  been  a  great  sin- 
ner"— and  after  a  short  pause,  "  Remember,  that  T  leave 
lady  Hamilton,  and  my  daughter  Horatia,  as  a  legacy  to  my 


BA"  TLE  OF  TRAPALQAR. 


«i5 


It  side, 
II  soon 
He 
at  sin- 
l  leave 
to  my 


country.**  His  articulation  now  became  difficult;  but  he 
was  distinctly  heard  to  say,  "  Thank  God,  I  have  done  my 
duty  !**  These  words  he  repeatedly  pronounced  ;  and  they 
were  the  last  words  which  he  uttered.  He  expired  at  thirty 
minutes  after  four — three  hours  and  a  quarter  after  he  receiv- 
ed his  woun^. 

14.  Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Nelson  was  wounrl- 
ed,  above  fifty  of  the  Victory's  men  fell  by  the  enemy's  mus- 
ketry. TKey,  however,  on  their  part,  were  not  idle  ;  and  it 
was  not  long  before  there  were  only  two  Frenchmen  left 
alive  in  the  mizen-top  of  the  Redoubtable.  One  of  them 
was  the  man  who  had  given  the  fat  J  wound — but  he  did  not 
live  to  boast  what  he  had  done.  An  old  quarter-master  had 
seen  him  fire ;  and  easily  recognised  him,  because  he  wore 
a  glazed  cocked  hat  and  white  frock.  Two  midshipmen. 
Mr.  Collingwood  and  Mr.  Pollard,  kept  firing  at  the  top,  and 
this  quarter-master  supplied  them  with  cartridges.  One  of 
thd  Frenchmen,  attempting  to  make  his  escape  down  the 
rigging,  was  shot  by  Mr.  Pollard,  and  suddenly  fell.  But 
the  old  quarter-master,  as  he  cried  out,  "•  That's  he,  that's 
he,**  and  pointed  at  the  other,  who  was  coming  forward  to 
fire  again,  received  a  shot  in  his  mouth,  and  fell  dead.  Both 
the  midshi;)men  then  fired,  at  the  same  time,  and  the  fellow 
dropped  into  the  mizen-top.  When  they  took  possession  of 
the  prize,  it  was  found,  that  one  ball  passed  through  his  head, 
and  another  through  his  breast. 

15.  The  Redoubtable  struck  within  twenty  minutes  after 
the  fatal  shot  had  been  fired  from  her.  During  that  time, 
fihe  hM  been  twice  on  fire,  in  her  forechains  and  in  her  fore- 
castle. The  French,  as  they  had  done  iri  other  battles, 
made  use,  in  this,  of  fire  balls,  and  other  combustibles — im- 
plements of  destruction,  which  other  nations,  from  a  sense 
of  honor  and  humanity,  have  laid  aside — which  add  to  the 
siifTerings  of  the  wounded,  without  determining  the  issue  of 
the  combat— which,  indeed,  none  but  the  cruel  would  em 
ploy,  and  which  never  can  be  successful  against  the  brave. 

How  long  did  Nelson  live  after  being  wounded  ? — How  many  of 
the  Victory's  men  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  fell  by  the  etiemy's 
musketry  ? — Did  the  person  who  shot  Nelson  escape  alive  ? — How 
long  after  Nelson  was  wounded,  before  the  Redoubtable  struck  ? — Of 
what  did  the  French  make  use,  in  this  battle,  not  practised  by  othot 
civilized  nations  P 


BATTLE  OF  TRAFALGAR. 

Once  they  succeeded  in  setting  fire,  from  the  Redoubtable 
to  some  ropes  and  canvass  on  the  Victory's  booms.  The 
cry  ran  through  the  ship ;  but  it  produced  no  confusion — the 
men  displayed  that  perfect  self-possession  in  danger,  by  which 
English  seamen  are  characterized — ^they  extinguished  the 
flames  on  board  their  own  ship,  and  then  ha8t.ened  to  extin- 
guish them  in  the  enemy,  by  throwing  buckets  of  water  from 
the  gangway. 

16.  What  the  English  would  have  done  from  gallantry, 
some  of  the  crew  of  the  Santissima  Trinidad  did  to  save 
themselves.  Unable  to  stand  the  tremendous  fire  of  the  Vic- 
tory, whose  larboard  guns  played  against  this  great  four- 
decker,  and  not  knowing  how  else  to  escape  them,  nor  where 
else  to  betake  themselves  for  protection,  many  leaped  over- 
board, and  swam  to  the  Victory ;  and  were  actually  helped 
up  her  sides  by  the  English  during  the  action.  The  Spa- 
niards began  the  battle  with  less  vivacity  than  th'i  French, 
but  they  continued  it  with  greater  firmness.  The  Argonau- 
ta  and  Bahama  were  defended  till  they  had  each  lost  about 
four  hundred  men — ^the  St.  Juan  Nepomuceno  lost  three 
hundred  and  fifty.  Often  as  the  superiority  of  British  cou- 
rage had  been  proved  against  France  upon  the  seas,  it  had 
never  been  more  conspicuous  than  in  this  decisive  conflict. 
Five  of  the  English  ships  were  engaged  muzzle  to  muzzle 
with  five  of  the  French.  In  all  five  the  French  lowered  their 
lower  deck  ports,  and  deserted  their  guns ;  while  the  English 
continued  deliberately  to  load  and  fire,  till  they  hsid  made 
their  victory  secure. 

17.  The  total  British  loss  in  the  battle  of  Trafalgar  amount- 
ed to  1587.  Twenty  of  the  enemy  struck,  bii^.  unhtippily 
the  fleet  did  not  anchor,  as  Nelson,  almost  with  his 'dying 
breath,  had  enjoined — a  gale  came  on  from  the  south-west ; 
some  of  the  prizes  went  down ;  some  wfent  on  shore ;  one 
eflected  its  escape  into  Cadiz  ;  others  were  destroyed  ;  four 
only  were  saved,  and  those  with  the  greatest  exertions.  The 
wounded  Spaniards 'were  sent  on  shore,  an  assurance  being 
given  that  they  should  not  serve  till  regularly  exchanged ; 


How  many  men  were  killed  on  board  the  Argonauta  and  Bahama  ? 

—On  board  the  St.  Juan  Nepomuceno  ? — What  was  the  whole  British 

loss  P — How  many  of  the  French  and  Spanish  ships  struck  to  the 

English  fleet  f — How  many  of  this  niuuber  were  saved  by  thi  Briti^? 

-Why  were  they  not  all  saved  ? 


■■ili 


THE  FIELD  OF  BATTLE. 

and  the  Spaniards,  with  a  generous  feeling,  offered  the  U8e\ 
of  their  hospitals  for  their  wounded  «nemies,  pledging  the  \ 
honor  of  Spain  that  they  should  be  carefully  attended  there. ' 
When  the  storm,  after  the  action,  drove  some  of  the  prizes 
upon  the  coast,  they  declared  that  the  English,  who  were 
thus  thrown  into  their  hands,  should  not  be  considered  as 
prisoners  of  war ;  and  the  Spanish  soldiers  gave  up  their 
owh  beds  to  their  shipwrecked  enemies. 


THE  FIELD  OF  BATTLE. 

Tms  sun  had  disappeared  beneath  the  flood  j 
The  watchful  sentinels,  with  weary  tread. 

Measured  the  waning  of  the  day  of  blood« 
And  careless  trod  among  th'  unburied  dead 

The  grass  is  wet,  but  not  with  wholesome  dew 
Its  verddre  blushes  deep  with  human  gore  \ 

And  friendd  and  foes  promiscuously  strew 
This  silent  bed,  at  eiimity  no  more. 

How  few  of  all  who  met  with  deadly  zeal, 
Knew  well  the  causes  of  conflicting  pride  ' 

How  fewer  still  could  personally  feel 
The  hatred  which  has  lain  tlierp  side  by  side  1 

t  pity  sucli  by  hard  condition  led 
To  be  the  passive  instruments  of  power ; 

Who  sell  their  lives  and  liberty  for  bread 
To  satisfy  the  cravings  of  an  hour. 

« 

N     me  so  moan  of  all  the  brave  who  die, 
But  calls  some  sympathizing  sorrow  forth ; 

Smp  '  is  the  share  of  grief  that  meets  the  eye; 
Ijunotic'd  falls  the  tear  for  humble  worth. 

Few  see  the  fn^her  bending  o'er  the  son, 

The  sole  saa  prop  on  which  his  age  depended ; 

The  helpless  widow  v/andering  alone. 

And  thousand  houseless  orphans  nnbefriended. 

:^0 


.:.:^'^ 


HU»iAN  SLAVERY. 

O  fcould  the  wail  of  orphans  reach  hia  ear, 

Or  could  he  feel  a  parent's  agony, 
And  see  the  widowM  mother's  hopeless  tear, 
•    The  sure  and  dreadful  price  of  victory—*- 

O  could  th*  ambitious  once  approach,  and  view 
The  desolation  his  ambition  made — 

Mcthinks  some  milder  method  he*d, pursue^ 
And  quit  for  ever  war's  unhallow'd  trade. 

O  when  will  justice  guide,  and  wisdom  light, 
And  mercy  to  the  great  her  rays  impart  ? 

A  splendid  victory  proves  no  conqueror  right, 
And  worlds  could  never  lical  oae  broken  heart. 

What  is  a  nation's  honor,  if  tl^e  price 
Is  ii:dividual  peace,  ond  happiness  t 

And  what  is  glory,  if  her  temple  rise 
Upon  the  base  of  national  distress  t 

Then  if  the  certain  fruits  of  war  ate  wo. 
And  th(3  destruction  of  domestic  bliss ; 

Ungather'd  let  the  warrior's  laurels  grow — • 
They  must  be  poisonous  in  a  soil  like  this^ 


HmiAN  slavery; 

1.  History  presents  to  the  eye  of  reason  and  humanity 
the  shocking  spectacle  of  an  extensive  system  of  slavery  ex- 
isting among  the  nations  of  antiquity.  We  have,  in  a  gene- 
ral view  of  the  social  system  of  Rome,  under  the  republican 
and  imperial  governments,  seen  the  rigorous  treatment  of 
slaves  in  the  early  ages,  and  contemplated  with  pleasure  the 
amelioration  of  their  condition  in  the  latter  times  of  the  re- 
public, and  under  the  government  of  the  empeiors.  This 
liappy  chaiige  in  the  condition  of  slavery  proceeded  from  a 
variety  of  causes  ;  end  the  establishment  of  Christianity  at 
length  added  its  benign  influence  to  soflen  the  condition  of 
those  unfortunate  mortals,  who  were  placed  in  that  abject  and 
depressed  state. 

Did  human  slavery  eztensivdiy  prevail  among  ancient  natione  ? 


MMMii 


HUMAN  SLAVERY. 

2.  The  Christian  rehgion  was,  indeed,  peculiarly  calcu-J 
lated  to  produce  this  happy  effect.    By  teaching  that  {he  slavel 
and  his  manter  must  appear  without  distinction  before  thel 
tribunal  of  the  impartial  Judge  of  all  mankind,  it  hfeld  out  to 
the  former  a  strong  inducement  to  a  patient  acquiescence  in 
his  condition,  while  it  inspired  thv<)  latter  with  sentiments  of 
humanity  and  benevolence  towards  those  whom  Providence 
had  thus  placed  under  his  authority.     And  although  the  sys- 
tem of  slavery  was  not  absolutely  abolished  on  the  establish- 
ment of  Christianityj  its  hardships  were  considerably  miti 
f^atwd ;  for  certainly  no  Christian,  who  was  worthy  of  the 
name,  cpuld  treat  his  slaves  with  unprovoked  cruelty,  or  un- 
necessary rigor. 

3.  The  subversion  of  the  empire  by  the  north  jrn  nations, 
by  reducing  slaves  and  their  masters,  for  the  most  part,  to.the 
same  state  of  villanage,  under  the  feudal  system,  in  a  great 
measure  annihilated  the  system  of  absolute  personal  slavery, 
as  it  had  existed  among  the  Romans.  The  Turks,  and  other 
nations,  who  subverted  the  empire  of  the  Caliphs,  again  in- 
troduced the  Roman  custom  of  condemning  to  slavery  their 
prisoners  of  war ;  and  the  same  system  was,  by  way  of  re- 
taliation, adopted  by  the  crusaders. 

4.  After  the  eniluisiactic  frenzy  of  the  religious  wars  |iad 
subsided,  in  proportion  as  the  minds  of  men  became  more 
enlightened,  as  religion  became  better  understood,  and  better 
practised,  ai^d  as  the  advancement  of  commerce  and  civiliza- 
tion diffused  wealth  amon£f  the  people,  the  system  of  slavery 
gradually  disappeared,  and  the  feudal  system  was,  by  a  con- 
currence of  causes,  at  last  abolished  in  several  parts  of  Eu- 
rope. It  is,  however,  a  melancholy  circumstance,  that  the 
extinction  of  slavery  in  Europe  was  so  soon  followed  by  its 
establish  uent  in  America.  We  have  seen  that  various  causes 
concurrjii,  in  such  a  manner,  as  rendered  the  effect  inevita- 
ble. In  this  life,  evil  is  invariably  mixed  with  good,  aiid  we, 
finite  creatures,  are  not  able  to  comprehend  the  designs  of  a 


(  How  did  Christianity  tend  to  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of 
slaves  in  the  latter  part  of  the  Roman  republic  ? — What  effect  had 
the  subversion  of  tHo  Roman  empire,  by  the  northern  nations,  upon 
slavery  ? — Who  again  introduced  the  Roman  cfustom  of  condemning 
to  slavery  their  prisoners  of  war  ? — And  who  adopted  tb«  very  prao* 
tice  by  way  of  retaliatingr  upon  the  Turki  ? 


mi»w 


w^" 


mamm 


mm 


i 


J  ./  ■ 


HUMAN  6LAVERT. 


Providence^  infinitely  w^se,  in  permitting  those  scei^es  oi 
misery  which  the  world  so  abundantly  displays. 

5.  Slavery  is  a  bitter  cup,  and  we  see  what  multitudes  of 
mankind  have  been  compelled  to  drink  it,  which  naturally 
gives  rise  to  this  question — What  right  can  be  claimed  by 
man,  to  exercise  this  tyranny  over  man,  his  fellow  creature  1 
To  Christians,  this  is  a  question  of  the  most  serious  impor- 
tance, which  they  ought  to  endeavor  to  answer  to  their  own 
consciences,  as  they  believe  that  it  must  one  day  be  answered 
before  the  tribunal  of  the  eternal  Judge,  whose  integrity  all 
the  gold  and  silver  dug  from  the  mines  of  the  earth  cannot 
bribe,  whose  omniscience  no  cunning  can  elude,  and  whoM 
f^mnipotence  no  power  can  resist. 

6.  O  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness, 
Some  boundless  contiguity  of  shade. 
Where  rumor  of  oppression  and  deceit, 
Of  unsuccessful  or  successful  war, 

Might  nevier  reach  me  more.    My  ear  is  pained; 

My  soul  is  sick,  with  every  day's  report 

Of  wrong  and  outrage,  with  which  earth  is  filled. 

There  is  no  flesh  in  man's  obdurate  heart, 

It  does  no*,  feel  fo-*  man  ;  the  natural  bond 

Of  brotherhood  is  severed  as  the  flax 

That  falls  asunder  at  the  touch  of  fire^ 

He  finds  his  feHow  guilty  of  a  skin 

^ot  colored  like  his  own  ;  and  having  power 

To  enforce  the  wrong,  for  such  a  worthy  cause 

Dooms  and  devotes  him  as  his  lawful  prey. 

Lands  intersected  by  a  narrow  frith 

Abhor  each  other.     Mountains  interposed 

Make  enemies  of  nations,  who  had  else 

Like  kindred  drops  been  mingled  into  one. 

7.  Thus  man  devotes  his  brother,  and  destroys ; 
And,  worse  than  all,  and  most  to  be  deplored 

Aii  human  nature's  broadest,  foulest  blot, 
Chains  him,  and  tt^sks  him,  and  extracts  his  sweat 
With  stripes,  that  Mercy,  with  a  bleeding  h^art, 
Weeps  when  she  sees  inflicted  on  a  beast. 
Then  what  is  man  1  And  what  man,  seeing  thii, 
And  having  human  feelings,  docs  not  blush, 
And  hang  his  head,  to  think  himself  a  man  T 


ORIGIN  OF  AFRICAN  fiLAVERT. 

I  would  not  have  a  slave  to  till  my  ground, 

To  carry  me,  to  fan  me  while  I  sleep, 

And  tremble  when  I  wake,  for  all  the  wealth 

That  sinews,  bought  and  sold,  have  ever  earnM. 

No^— dear  as  freedom  is,  and  in  my  heart's 

Just  estimation  prized  above  all  price, 

I  had  much  rather  be  myself  the  slave, 

And  wear  the  bonds,  than  fasten  them  on  him. 


381 


ORIGIN  OF  AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 

1.  The  very  worst  of  all  the  consequences  of  the  disoc^- 
fery  of  the  new  continent,  was  the  introduction  of  negro 
tlairery.  The  first  Spanish  adventurers  treated  the  unfortu 
nate  inhabitants  of  the  newly  discovered  countries  like  beMta 
of  butdeu.  They  divided  among  themselves  the  lands  of 
the  new  world,  and  with  the  lands  the  ill-fated  inhabitaato 
also,  whom  they  reduced  to  a  state  of  the  most  abject  filavery, 
tnd  imposed  upon  them  labors  which  their  delicate  constilli- 
kions  were  not  able  to  bear.  The  natives  of  all  those  parts 
of  America  conquered  by  the  Spaniards,  inhabited  coutUrieff 
wb^re  the  fertility  of  the  soil  spontaneously  produced  what 
was  necessary  to  their  support,  and  the  uniform  warmth  of 
the  dimate  precluded  the  necessity  of  clothing. 

2.  In  such  a  stp.te,  the  natives  of  AiPdrica,  strangers  to 
the  wants  and  conveniences  of  civilized  life,  were  unaccus* 
tomed  to  any  active  or  laborious  exertions,  either  of  body  or 
mind.  This  habitual  indolence,  witlji  the  relaxing  heat  of 
the  climate,  enervated  their  bodily  frame,  and  rendered  them 
totally  uiifit  for  labor.  The  difference  of  bodily  strength  and 
constitution  between  the  American  natives  within  the  torrid 
zone,  and  the  Europeans,  was  so  remarkably  conspicuous,  that 
one  Spaniard  was  found  able  to  perform  as  much  laborious 
work,  and  also  required  as  great  a  quantity  of  victuals,  as 
five  or  six  Indians ;  and  the  natives  of  America  were  asto- 
nished at  the  quantity  of  provisions  which  the  Spaniards, 
who  are  the  most  abstemious  people  of  Europe,  devoured,  aa 
well  as  at  the  quantity  of  work  they  were  able  to  perform. 

Whftt  may  be  reckoned  one  of  the  wnnt  eonsequenoef  of  tht  die 
eovery  of  Avnerioa  ?     t^^t, 


mmmm 


mmmm 


fm 


ORIGIN  OF  AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


3.  Men,  accustomed  to  so  indolent  a  mode  of  life,  and  so 
scanty  a  diet,  \yerc  totally  incapable  of  supporting  the  labors 
of  cultivating  the  ground,  and  working  in  the  mines,  which 
the  colonists  imposed  upon  thein.  Unable  to  sustain  the 
grievous  burdens  with  which  their  oppressors  afflicted  them, 
multitudes  of  those  unhappy  mortals  were  by  death  released 
from  all  their  earthly  sufferings.  Hispaniola,  Cuba,  and  other 
islands,  were  almost  depopulated,  before  the  court  of  Spain 
was  sufficiently  apprised  of  the  matter  to  interest  itself  in  the 
sufferings  of  the  Americans.  The  tyranny  of  the  unprinci- 
pled and  avaricious  colonists  excited  the  abhorrence,  and  the 
miseries  of  the  natives  stimulated  the  compassion  of  several 
humane  and  benevolent  Spaniards,  both  laymen  and  ecclesi- 
astics, who  had  been  witnesses  of  those  scenes  of  horror. 

4.  Among  those  friends  of  mankind,  the  name  of  Father 
6«.rtholomew  de  las  Casas  will  uever  be  forgotten.  This 
humane,  ecclesiastic,  whose  courage  no  danger  could  appal, 
and  whose  steady  and  resolute  perseverance  no  difliculties 
could  overcome,  kad  been  an  indignant  spectator  of  the 
tyranny  exercised  by  the  colonists  on  the  unfortunate  nativest 
fie  had  loudly  declaimed  against  their  inhumanity  and  op- 
pression. Passing  from  America  to  Spain,  he  endeavored, 
by  every  possible  means,  to  excite  the  public  voice,  as  well 
as  the  humanity  and  compassion  of  the  court,  in  favor  of  his 
oppressed  felk)W  creatures.  This  benevolent  man  left  no 
.Aone  unturned  to  excite  the  compassion  of  both  Spain  and 
Rome  in  behalf  of  those  unfortunate  sufferers,  and  to  rouse 
the  thunders  of  the  church,  as  well  as  the  indignation  of  the 
{Spanish  court,  against  those  Christian  tyrants  and  butchers 
of  the  human  species. 

5.  The,  colonists,  on  their  part,  were  not  inactive.  They 
represented  the  Americans  as  an  inferior  race  of  beings, 
born  for  slavery,  incapable  of  comprehending  the-  doctrines 
of  Christianity.  This  degradation  of  the  Americans  from 
the  rank  cf  rational  beings,  was,  however,  universally  exploded 
and  condemned  by  the  decision  of  Rome  and  Spain,  where 
the  public  indignation  was  roused  against  the  inhumanity  of 
the  colonial  tyrants  ;  Father  de  las  Casas,  and  other  friends 
of  humanity,  were  indefatigable  in  their  efforts  ;  and  it  is  a 


For  what  purpose  were  the  African  negroes  first  carried  to  Ama- 
rica  /.—Why  were  not  the  natives  employed  in  the  minei  ? 


ORlGiN  OF  APRIGAN  SLAVERY. 


833        SS 


pleapiifg  object  of  contemplation,  to  see  Spanish  ecclesiastics 
of  the  &eenth  century  stand  forth  the  avowed  advocates  alid 
assertors  of  the  rational  and  unalienable  rights  of  mankind. 
The  court  of  Spain  interested  itself  virarmly  in  the  cause  of 
the  oppressed  Americans,  and  resolved  to  take  effective  mea> 
surcs  for  putting  an  end  to  v,he  disorders  which  prevailed  in 
the  colonies. 

6.  The  colonists,  on  their  part,  finding  their  cause  daily 
losing  ground,  and  seeing  reason  to  apprehend  the  anathe- 
mas of  the  church,  as  well  as  the  effective  resentment  of  the 
mother  country,  took  a  new  ground,  and  discovered  a  post 
which  they  supposed,  and  which  actually  proved,  in  some 
degree,  impregnable.  They  represented  the  necessity  of 
having  hands  to  cultivate  the  new  settlements,  and  to  work 
the  mines,  without  which  they  must  be  abandoned,  and  all 
hopes  of  drawing  any  advantage  from  the  discovery  and 
i^nquest  of  those  rich  countries  be  for  ever  extinguished ; 
and  they  represented  the  natives  as  an  indolent  race,  whom 
no  wages,  no  rewards,  could  induce  to  work,  and  whom  no- 
thing but  absolute  compulsion  could  oblige  to  apply  to  any 
kind  of  useful  labor. 

7.  This  representation,  indeed,  was  not  untrue.  Thcli 
indolent  and  inactive  life  had  rendered  them  equally  unable 
and  unwilling  to  apply  to  any  kind  of  labor.  Unaecustorti> 
edj  as  they  had  ever  been,  to  the  elegancies  and  luxuries  of 
civilized  life,  and  ignorant  of  their  use,  they  could  not  sup* 
pose  them  worth  the  trouble  of  acquisition,  and  were  asto» 
nished  that  the  Europcitns  should  either  work  themselves,  or 
desire  others  to  labor,  for  the  possession  of  things  not  immiD- 
diately  necessary  for  the  support  of  life ;  gold  and  silver  were 
things  of  no  value  among  them.  They  had  never  made  use 
of  those  metals,  except  such  pieces  as  they  had  accidentally 
found,  and  used  merely  as  ornaments ;  and  they  could  not 
conceive  by  what  infatuation  the  Spaniards  could  be  induced 
to  ransack  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  to  establish  a  system 
of  laborious  employment  for  the  acquisition  of  those  metals, 
which  appeared  to  them  cf  so  little  use,  and  which  they  could 
do  so  well  without. 

-8.  It  is  very  evident,  that  men  of  such  ideas,  and  accus- 
tomed to  so  simple  a  state  of  life,  could  '  not  be  induced  to 
labor  for  the  sake  of  gain ;  for  it  is  an  invariable  principle 
of  human  nature  not  to  labor  for  the  acquisition  of  any  thing 


»4 


ORIGIN  OF  AFRICAN  SLAVERY 


the  possession  of  which  is  esteemed  of  no  value.  T^is  plea, 
therefore,  of  the  colonists,  was  unanswerable.  The  pros- 
pect of  drawing  immense  wealth  from  the  new  world  could 
not  be  abandoned.  Hands  wei9  necessary  to  cultivate  the 
soil  and  work  the  mines.  The  natives  would  not  work  for 
wages ;  nothing  but  compulsory  means  could  induce  them 
to  employ  themselves  in  labor.  These  circumstances  pre- 
cluded the  possibility  of  emancipating  the  Americans.  The 
exertions  of  the  friends  of  humanity  were  rendered  abortive, 
in  regard  to  the  accomplishment  of  their  grand  object ;  but 
they  were  not,  however,  without  a  beneficial  effect. 

9.  The  court  of  Spain  seriously  studied  to  ameliorate  the 
condition  of  the  Americans ;  and  different  plans  were  forn^ 
ed,  and  different  measures  adopted,  for  that  purpose.  Every 
new  regulation,  relative  to  colonial  affairs,  was  favorable  to 
the  cause  of  those  oppressed  people.  As  it  was  not  possible 
le  draw  any  advantage  from  the  mint:s,  unless  they  were 
wrought,  and  the  Americans  would  not  work  for  hire,  a  cir* 
Qumstance  which  imposed  the  necessity  of  using  coercive 
measures,  it  was  at  length  determined,  that  they  should  be 
freed  from  the  tyrannical  oppr4saon  of  their  imperious  task- 
masters, and  only  obliged  to  work  by  corvees  in  rotation,  end 
to  receive  fixed  wages  for  the  days  they  were  obliged  to  work. 
This  was,  indeed,  the  most  r^'^tonal  method  of  gradually 
overcoming  their  habitual  indolence  and  rooted  aversion  to 
labor,  and  of  making  them  industrious  and  useful  members 
<^  society. 

10.  Notwithstanding  the  rational  and  hum?.ne  measure* 
adopted  by  the  court  of  Spain, .  the  advocates  of  American 
liberty  were  not  fully  satisfied ;  find  Father  de  las  Casas, 
whose  character  is  strongly  marked  by  that  determined  reso- 
lution which  no  opposition  can  disconcert,  and  that  ardent 
zeal  which  can  never  abandon  a  favorite  project,  was  firmly 
bent  on  trying  every  expedient  in  order  to  accomplish  the 
complete  emancipation  of  thie  natives  of  the  new  world  ;  and 
in  his  zeal  for  so  good  a  cause,  unfortunately  hit  upon  the 
desperate  expedient  of  negro  slavery,  thus  alleviating  the 
miseries  of  America  by  hurling  them  upoL  Africa. 

11.  Father  de  las  Cadasy  Cardinal  Ximenes,  and  other 


Who  WM  th«  first  that  su^getted  th«  idea  of  thnc  mnploying  th* 


% 


ORIGIN  OF  AFRICAN  SLAVERY. 


projeetors  of  the  slave  trade,  who  were  undoubtedhr  human* 
and  benevolent  men,  imagined,  that  by  importing  from  Afri- 
ca a  number  of  slaves,  taken  prisoners  in  the.  wars,  which 
frequently  took  place  among  the  savage  nations  of  that  conti* 
nent,  or  such  as  were  malefactors,  convicted  of  crimes  against 
society,  they  might  make  useful  laborers  of  many  on  whom 
the  punishment  of  death  or  slavery  would  otherwise  be  inflict* 
ed  in  Africa,  in  consequence  of  martial  law  or  judicial  sen- 
tence. They  might  also,  with  no  small  probability  of  con- 
jecture, imagine  that  slaves,  procured  from  a  distant  coun- 
try, and  purchased  at  a  great  expense,  would  be  better  treat- 
ed and  taken  care  of  by  their  interested  masters,  than  the 
unfortunate  natives,  whose  lives  appeared  of  no  value  in  the 
eyes  of  the  colonists. 

12.  It  was  also  considered,  that  the  negroes  had  not  that 
rooted  aversion  to  labor,  which  so  strongly  characterized 
the  natives  of  the  new  continent,  and  that  their  robust  con- 
stitutions, and  the  strongly  compacted  frame  of  their  bodies* 
rendered  them  capable  of  undevgoing  those  labors  ,and  fa- 
tigues which  threatened  the  extirpation  of  the  whole  race  of 
the  natives  of  America.  To  all  these  considerations,  there 
might,  perhaps,  be  added,  the  expectation  that  the  introduc- 
tion of  a  number  of  robust  slaves  into  the  colonies,  would  in 
time  be  productive  of  a  race  of  active  and  industrious  labor- 
ers ;  and  that  in  two  or  three  generations,  the  Anieiicans 
becoming  accustomed  to  a  civilized  life,  and  acquainted  with 
its  conveniencies,  would  gradually  lose  their  aversion  to  em- 
ployment, which  has,  indsed,  been  in  some  degree  the  case, 
and  that  the  necessity  of  slavery  would  in  time  be  super- 
seded by  the  increase  of  voluntary  laborers. 

13.  These  considerations  might,  and  many  of  them  un- 
doubtedly did,  present  themselves  to  the  minds  of  the  first 
projectors  of  the  African  slave  trade,  and  sufficiently  evince 
the  rectitude  of  their  intentions.  The  consequences,  it  is 
true,  have  been  in  many  respects  shocking  to  humanity ;  but 
these  they  did  not,  and  indeed,  could  not  foresee.  Man  is 
liable  to  error ;  and  some  men  are  so  circumstanced,  that 
the  slightest  mistake  in  their  conduct  cannot  fail  of  produc- 
ing the  most  fatal  consequences,  either  to  themselves  or  to 
others ;  a  condition  too  hard  for  a  finite  capacity  ;  yet,  if  we 


What  wvre  Lm  Cosat'  motives  for  employinif  tlie  negroos  f 


830 


THE  NEGROES  COMPLAINT 


# 


carbfully  pt^ruse  the  history  of  mankind,  or  extena  our  ob- 
eervatioiis  abroad  in  the  world,  we  may  easily  perceive,  that 
many  persons  are  placed  in  such  a  situation,  amoug  whom 
the  first  projectors  of  the  slave  trade  may,  with  great  propri- 
ety, be  numbered. 

14.  It  is  computed  by  M.  I'Abbe  Raynal,  that  between 
eight  and  ten  millions  of  negroes  have  been  imported  into 
the  American  colonies,  and  that  one  million  and  a  half  do 
not  now  remain.  If  this  calculation  be  just,  or  nearly  so,  it 
exhibits  a  destruction  of  the  human  species,  of  which  the 
history  of  mankind  affords  few  examples,  and  which  must 
proceed  from  a  series  of  sufferings  shocking  to  humanity. 
It  cannot  be  attributed  to  the  change  of  climate ;  for  the 
countries  from  whence  the  negroes  arc  brought,  are  situated 
within  the  torrid  zone,  and  in  the  same  climate  as  most  of 
the  American  settlements  into  which  they  are  imported ;  and, 
excepting  Batavia,  scarcely  any  countries  can  be  found  on 
the  surface  of  the  globe  where  the  air  is  more  sultry  and  in- 
salubrious than  in  Negroland  and  Guinea.  This  singular 
and  shocking  destruction  of  the  unhappy  Africans,  may 
therefore,  without  doubt,  be  chiefly  attributed  to  their  violent 
separation  from  their  country  and  their  connexions,  and  that 
depression  of  spirits  inseparable  from  a  state  of  slavery. 


THE  NEGRO'S  COMPLAINT, 

1.  Forc'd  from  home  and  all  its  pleasures, 

Afric's  coast  I  left  forlorn  ; 
To  increase  a  stranger's  treasures, 

0*er  the  raging  billows  borne. 
Men  from  England  bought  and  sold  me, 

Paid  my  price  in  paltry  gold  ; 
But,  though  slave  they  have  enroU'd  me, 

Minds  are  never  to  be  sold. 

3.  Still  in  thought  as  free  as  ever. 
What  are  England's  rights  I  ask, 


How  many  negroes,  has  [^  been  computed,  have  been  imported  into 
4awTica  ? — And  now  manv  of  them  »till  live ' 


THE  NEQRO'S  COMPLAINT. 

Me  from  my  delights  to  sever, 
Me  to  torture,  me  to  task  ? 

Fleecy  locks,  and  black  complexion 
Cannot  forfeit  nature's  claim ; 

Skins  may  differ,  but  affection 
Dwells  in  wl^ite  and  black  the  sam& 

3.  Why  did  all-creating  nature 

Make  the  plant  for  which  we  toil  1 
Sighs  must  fan  it,  tears  must  water, 

Sweii  t  of  ours  must  dress  the  soil. 
Think,  ye  masters,  iron  hearted, 

Lolling  at  your  jovial  boards  ; 
Think  how  many  backs  have  smarted 

For  the  sweets  your  cane  affords. 

4.  Is  there,  as  ye  sometimes  tell  us, 

Is  there  one  who  reigns  on  high  1 
Has  he  bid  you  buy  and  sell  us. 

Speaking  from  his  throne,  the  sky  1 
Ask  him,  if  your  knotted  scourges, 

Matches,  blood-extorting  screws, 
Are  the  means  that  duty  urges, 

Agents  of  his  will  to  use  1 

6.  Hii.  k  !  he  answers — wild  tornadoes. 

Strewing  yonder  sea  with  wrecks ; 
Wasting  towns,  plantations,  meadows. 

Are  the  voice  with  which  he  speaks » 
He,  foreseeing  what  vexations 

Afric's  sons  should  undergo, 
Fix'd  their  tyrants'  habitations 

Where  his  whirlwinds  answer — No* 

6.  By  our  blood  in  Afric  wasted, 

Ere  our  necks  receiv'd  the  chain  ; 
By  the  mis'ries  that  we  tasted, 

Crossing  in  your  barks  the  main  ; 
By  our  sufferings  since  ye  brought  us 

To  the  man-degrading  mart ; 
All  sustained  by  patience,  taught  us 

Only  by  a  broken  heart. 


ap 


336  WILLIAM  TELL. 

7.  Deem  our  nation  brutes  no  longer. 

Till  some  reason  ye  shall  find 
Worthier  of  regard,  and  stronger 

Than  the  color  of  our  kind. 
Slaves  of  gold,  whose  sordid  dealings 

Tarnish  all  your  boasted  powVs, 
Prove  that  you  have  human  feelings. 

Ere  you  proudly  question  ours. 


WILLIAM  TELL. 

1.  Before  Switzerland  was  delivered  from  the  dominion 
of  Austria,  the  governor  of  Uri,  named  Geisler,  resided  in 
the  city  of  Altorf ;  who  by  abusing  the  power  intrusted  to 
him,  iniquitously  exercised  the  most  cruel  tyranny.  Inter- 
est or  caprice  alone  directed  his  decisions ;  justice  and  reason 
were  banished ;  judgment  was  sold  ;  the  innocent  were  pu- 
nished arbitrarily  ;  and  the  ministers  of  the  tyrant  committed 
tlie  most  enormous  crimes  with  impunity. — He  at  last  added 
extravagance  to  cruelty ;  and  having  caused  a  pole  to  be 
erected  in  a  public  square,  and  placed  a  hat  upon  it,  he  or- 
dered, under  pain  of  death,  that  all  who  passed  that  way, 
should  bow  down  before  it,  and  reverence  it  as  they  did  his 
own  person. 

S.  In  the  same  canton,  there  lived  a  man  of  rough  but 
frank  mannel-s,  named  William  Tell,  who,  having  come  on 
business  to  Altorf,  passed  through  the  public  square,  and  be- 
holding the  pole  with  the  hat  upon  it,  hesitated  a  moment 
between  wonder  and  laughter  ;  but  not  knowing  its  object, 
and  but  little  curious  to  inquire,  he  negligently  passed  this 
emblem  of  power.  The  irreverence  paid  to  the  pole,  and 
the  infraction  of  the  severe  edict,  were  speedily  reported 
to  the  governor,  who,  being  filled  with  rage,  ordered  the 
criminal  to  be  instantly  arrested,  and  brought  before  him. 
He  received  the  offender  with  the  savage  look  of  cruelty  pe- 
culiar to  a  base  mind,  jealous  of  its  authority,  and  ferocious 
when  it  is  made  the  subject  of  derision. 

3i  Villain,  said  he,  is  this  your  respect  for  my  povt^er  and 


f*oe  trdMit  .iTAnce  was  William  Tell  eondemnad  to  death  f 


/ 


ominion 
sided  in 
usted  to 
Inter- 
1  reason 
irere  pu- 
mmitted 
It  added 
tie  to  be 
t,  he  or- 
lat  way, 
did  his 

ugh  but 
some  on 
and  be- 
noment 
object, 
sed  this 
ole,  and 
eported 
jred  the 
>re  him. 
elty  pe- 
irocious 

^er  and 


h? 


^ 


WILLIAM  TELL. 


;M9 


decrees  t  But  you  shall  feel  their  full  weight,  and  afford  a 
wretched  proof  that  my  dignity  is  not  to  be  affronted  with 
impunity.  Astonished,  but  not  intimidated,  at  this  invec- 
tive, Tell  freely  inquired  of  what  he  was  accused,  as  he  wai 
unconscious  of  any  crime.  Contempt  and  derision  of  my 
power,  said  the  tyrant.  I  had  no  notice,  replied  Tell,  of 
your  edict ;  and  without  being  instructed,  I  should  never 
have  dreamed  of  saluting  a  pole,  or  that  irreverence  to  a  hat 
was  high  treason  against  the  state.  Enraged  at  the  tone  and 
air  of  derision  with  which  this  was  pronounced,  and  the  rea- 
sonableness of  the  still  more  humiliating  reply,  he  command- 
ed the  unfortunate  man  to  be  dragged  away  to  the  lowest 
dungeon  of  the  castle,  and  there,  loaded  with  chains,  await 
his  execution. 

4.  While  the  tyrant  was  revolving  the  subject  in  his  own 
mind,  and  endeavoring  to  invent  some  unheard-of  punish- 
ment, which  should  strike  terror  into  the  Swiss,  the  only 
and  beloved  son  of  Tell  was  brought  into  his  presence  by 
the  soldiers.  His  ingenious  cruelty  immediately  conceived 
the  barbarous  design  of  compelling  the  virtuous  Tell  to  be- 
come the  murderer  of  his  son.  For  this  purpose,  he  order- 
ed the  child  to  be  placed  at  a  considerable  distance,  and 
then  placing  an  apple  upon  his  head,  he  offered  a  fUU  pardon 
to  the  wretched  parent,  if  he  should  strike  it  off  with  an 
arrow. 

j  5.  Horror-struck  at  the  proposal,  he  fell  at  the  feet  of  the 
tyrant,  and  besought  him  to  take  his  life,  and  not  insist  upon 
the  fatal  experiment.  But  the  anguish  of  the  parent  only 
strengthened  the  determination  of  Geisler ;  and  the  bow  and 
a  quiver  of  arrows  were  brought  forth.  The  governor,  at- 
tended by  his  satellites,  now  proceeded  to  the  square,  to  wit- 
ness the  scene.  The  unhappy  boy  was  conducted  into  the 
centre,  bound  to  the  pole,  and  the  fatal  apple  was  placed 
upon  his  head.  Geisler  thrilled  with  joy  at  the  preparations ; 
but  a  groan  of  horror  arose  on  all  sides  from  the  populace 
who  had  assembled. 

6.  Although  Tell  was  accounted  the  most  skilful  archer 
in  the  canton,  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  obtain  his 
usual  self-possession.  At  last,  with  a  firm  hand,  he  placed 
the  arrow ;  and  when  he  drew  the  fatal  spring,  the  spectA- 


On  what  condition  waj  William  Tell  pardoned  f 


340 


BATTLE  OF  ERIE. 


at' 


B 


tors,  who  had  for  some  time  remained  in  breathless  silenee, 
burst  forth  into  a  convulsive  groaa.  At  that  instant  the 
arrow  sped  with  the  velocity  of  lightning,  and  piercing  the 
aj^le,  bore  it  to  some  distance  without  injuring  the  child. 
A  shout  of  applause  testified  the  joy  of  the  spectators*  The 
governor  alone  appeared  dissatisfied  with  the  result,  and  turft- 
ed  his  eye  upon  the  successful  archer  with  the  aspect  of  diit- 
appointed  revenge. 

7.  At  that  instant,  another  arrow,  which  Tell  had  con- 
cealed under  his  cloak,  fell  upon  the  ground.  Unequalled 
archer  !  said  the  tyrant,  since  you  were  only  to  shoot  once, 
for  what  purpose  was  this  second  arrow  concealed  '?  To  have 
pierced  you  to  the  heart,  replied  the  magnanimous  Tell^  if 
I  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  kill  my  son.  For  this  heroic 
answer  he  was  condemned  to  perpetual  imprisonment  in  a 
dungeon  at  Kuffriacht,  the  residence  of  Geisler.  Tf;ll  was 
accordingly  bound,  and  placed  in  a  boat,  that  Geisler  him- 
self might  convey  him  across  the  lake  of  Altorf  to  his  castle. 

8.  Scarcely,  lowever,  had  the  boat  performed  half  the 
passage,  when  a  furious  s<^ua]l  covered  the  surface  of  the 
lake  with  threatening  waves.  Geisler,  as  humble  in  the  hour 
of  danger  as  he  had  been  arrogant  when  fear  was  at  a  dis- 
-ance,  entreated  Tell,  who  was  accounted  the  most  skilful 
boatman  in  the  canton,  to  save  him ;  and  unbound  his  pri- 
soner with  his  own  hands.  Tell  seated  himself  at  the  helm, 
steered  the  boat  towards  a  rock,  leaped  upon  it,  and  then, 
in  an  instant,  with  the  same  manly  strength,  pushed  back 
the  boat  into  the  lake,  escaped,  and  concealed  himself.  At 
length  the  storm  abated,  and  Geigfer  gained  the  shore.  As 
he  was  about  to  enter  his  fortress,  Tell,  who  had  by  a  circu- 
itous route  reached  the  spot  before  him,  discharged  an  arrow 
a'j  the  tyrant,  which  pierced  his  heart ;  and  thus  paved  the 
way  for  that  conspiracy  which  laid  tiie  foundation  of  his 
country's  liberty. 


BATTLE  OF  ERIE. 

I.  At  10  A.  M.  the  wind  hauled  to  the  southeast,  and 
brought  the  American  squadron  to  windward.      Commo- 

For  what  was  William  Tell  then  sentencod  to  perpetual  impMriaon 
aoont  ? — How  did  ho  escape  from  this  punishment  ? 


BATTLE  OF  ERIE. 


841 


ircu- 

rrow 

the 

his 


and 
nmo- 

laon 


dore  Perry  th^in  hoisted  his  Union  Jack,  having  for  a  motto 
the  dying  words  of  the  valiant  Lawrence,  "  Don't  give  up 
the  ship  !"  It  was  received  with  repeated  cheerings  by  the 
officers  and  crews.  And  now  having  formed  his  line,  he  bore 
for  the  enemy,  who  likewise  cleared  for  action,  and  hauled  up 
his  courses.  It  is  deeply  interesting  to  picture  to  ourselves 
the  advances  of  these  gallant  and  well-matched  squadrons  to 
a  contest,  where  the  strife  must  be  obstinate  and  sanguinp^ry, 
and  the  event  decisive  of  the  fate  of  almost  an  empire. 
•  2.  The  lightness  of  the  wind  occasioned  them  to  approach 
each  other  but  slowly,  and  prolonged  the  awful  interval  of 
suspense  and  anxiety  that  precedes  a  battle.  This  is  the 
time,  when  the  stoutest  hearts  beat  quick,  "  and  the  boldest 
holds  his  breath  ;"  it  is  the  still  moment  of  direful  expecta* 
tion ;  of  fearful  looking  out  for  slaughter  and  destruction ; 
when  even  the  glow  of  pride  and  ambition  is  chilled  for  a 
while,  and  nature  shudders  at  the  awful  jeopardy  of  exist, 
ence.  The  very  order  and  regularity  of  naval  discipline^ 
heighten  the  dreadful  quiet  of  the  moment.  No  bustle,  no 
noise  r.evails  to  distract  the  mind,  except  at  intervals  the 
shrill  piping  of  the  boatswain's  whistle.,  or  a  murmuring 
whisper  among  the  men,  who,  grouped  around  their  guns, 
earnestly  regard  the  movements  of  the  foe,  now  and  then 
stealing  a  wistful  glance  at  the  countenance  of  their  com- 
manders. In  this  manner  did  the  hostile  squadrons  approach 
each  other,  in  mute  watchfulness  and  terrible  tranquillity ; 
wh^n  suddenly  a  bugle  was  sounded  from  on  board  the  ene- 
my's ship  Detroit,  and  loud  huzzas  immediately  burst  from 
nljl  their  crews. 

3*  No  sooner  did  the  liawrence  come  within  the  reach  of 
thfi  enemy's  long  gun^  t^  an  they  opened  a  heavy  fire  upon 
h^r,  which,  from  the  shortness  of  her  guns,  she  was  unable 
to  return.  Commodore  Perry,  without  waiting  for  his  schoo- 
ners, kept  on  his  course  in  such  gallant  and  determined  style, 
that  the  enemy  supposed  it  was  his  intention  to  board.  In  a 
few  minutes,  having  a  nearer  position,  he  opened  his  fire. 
The  length  of  the  enemies'  guns,  however,  gave  them  vastly 


When  was  the  battle  of  Erie  ?  (10th  of  September,  1813.)— Who 
eommanded  the  American  pquadron  ? — What  was  the  motto  on  com- 
modore Perry's  union  jack  ? — What  was  the  name  of  the  vessel  in 
which  hf;  ".ommenred  the  engagement  ? 
Sit 


"^^W 


■■^■VN 


342 


BATTLE  OF  ERIE. 


i 


the  advamaore,  and  the  Lawrence  was  excessively  cut  up^ 
witiiout  being  able  to  do  any  great  damage  in  return.  Their 
shot  pierced  her  sides  in  all  directions,  killing  our  men  on 
the  birth-deck  and  in  the  steerage,  where  they  had  been 
taken  down  to  be  dressed..  One  shot  had  nearly  produced 
a  fatal  explosion  ;  passing  v;hrough  the  light  room,  it  knocked 
the  snuff  of  the  candle  into  the  magazine  ;  fortunately,  the 
gunner  happened  to  see  it,  and  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
extingriish  it  immediately  with  his  hand. 

4.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  be  the  enemy's  plan  to  destroy  the 
commodore's  ship,  and  thus  throw  the  squadron  into  confu- 
sion. For  this  purpose,  their  heaviest  fire  was  directed  ai 
tlie  Lawrence,  and  blazed  incessantly  upon  it  from  their 
largest  vessels.  Finding  the  hazard  of  his  situation,  Perry 
made  sail,  and  directed  the  other  vessels  to  follow,  for  the 
purpose  of  closing  with  the  foe.  The  tremendous  fire,  liow- 
9ver,  to  which  he  was  exposed,  soon  cut  away  every  brace 
and  bowline,  and  the  Lawrence  became  unmanageable. 
Even  in  this  disastrous  plight,  she  sustained  the  action  for 
upwards  of  two  hours,  within  canister  distance,  though  for  .. 
great  part  of  the  time  he  could  not  get  more  than  three  guns 
to  bear  upon  her  antagonists.  It  was  admirable  to  behold 
the  perfect  order  and  regularity  that  prevailed  among  he* 
valiant  and  devoted  crew,  throughout  this  scene  of  horror. 
No  trepidation,  no  confusion  occurred,  even  for  n:-  instnnt ; 
ap  fast  as  the  men  were  wounded,  they  were  carried  beiuw, 
and  others  stept  into  their  places  ;  the  dead  remained  where 
they  fell,  till  after  the  action. 

6.  At  this  juncture,  the  fortune  of  the  battle  trembled  on 
a  point,  and  the  ertemy  believed  the  day  their  own.  The 
Lawrence  was  reduced  to  a  mere  wreck  ;  her  decks  were 
stre:vmiflg  with  blood,  and  covered  with  mangled  limbs,  and 
the  bodies  of  the  slain  ;  nearly  the  whole  of  her  crew  was 
either  killed  or  wounded  ;  her  guns  were  dismounted  ;  awl 
the  commodore  and  his  officers  helped  to  work  the  last  that 
was  capable  of  service.  But  amidst  all  this  peril  and  disas^- 
ter,  the  youthful  commantler  is  said  to  have  remamed  per- 
fectly composed,  maintaining  a  serene  and  cheerful  counte- 
nance, uttering  no  passionate  or  agitated  expression,  giving 
ont  his  orders  with  calmness  and  deliberation,  and  inspiriting 
every  one  around  him  by  his  magnanimous  demeanor. 


mmf^ 


BATTLE  OF  ERIE. 


341 


lor  .i 


6.  At  this  crisis,  finding  the  Lawrence  was  incapable  of 
further  service,  and  seeing  the  hazardous  situation  of  the 
conflict,  he  formed  the  bold  resolution  of  shifting  his  flag. 
Giving  the  ship,  therefore,  in  charge  to  lieutenant  Yarnall, 
who  had  already  distinguished  himself  by  his  bravery,  he 
hauled  down  his  union,  bearing  the  motto  of  Lawrence,  and 
taking  it  under  his  arm,  ordered  to  be  put  on  board  the  Nia* 
gara,  which  was  then  in  close  engagement.  In  leaving  the 
Lawrence,  he  gave  his  pilot  choice  either  to  remain  on  board, 
or  accompany  him ;  the  faithful  fellow  told  him,  **  he  would 
stick  by  him  to  the  last,"  and  jumped  into  the  boat.  He 
then  went  off  from  the  ship  in  his  usual  gallant  manner, 
standing  up  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  until  the  crew  absolutely 
pulled  him  down  among  them. 

7.  Broadsides  were  now  levelled  at  him,  and  small  arms 
were  discharged  by  the  enemy,  two  of  whose  vessels  were 
within  musket  shot,  and  a  third  one  nearer.  His  brave  ship- 
mates who  remained  behind,  stood  watching  him  in  breath- 
less Bjixiety  ;  the  balls  struck  around  him,  and  flew  over  his 
head,  in  every  direction :  but  the  same  special  providence 
that  >.-^nis  to  have  watched  over  the  youthful  hero  througb- 
out  (  ^  desperate  battle,  conducted  him  safely  through  a 
shower  of  shot,  and  they  beheld  with  transport  his  inspiring 
flag  hoisted  at  the  mast-head  of  the  Niagara.  No  sooner 
was  he  on  board,  than  captain  Elliot  volunteered  to  put  off 
in  a  boaiy  and  bring  into  action  the  schooners,  which  had 
b^esi  kept  astern  by  the  lightness  of  the  wind  ;  the  gallant 
affer  was  accepted,  and  Elliot  left  the  Niagara  to  put  it  iu 
execution. 

8.  About  this  time,  the  commodore  saw,  with  infinite  re- 
gret, the  flag  of  the  Lawrence  come  down.  The  event  was 
unavoidable ;  she  had  sustained  the  whole  fury  of  the  enemy, 
and  was  rendered  incapable  of  defence ;  any  further  show 
of  resistance,  would  have  been  most  uselessly  and  cruelly  to 
have  provoked  carnage  among  the  relics  of  her  brave  and 
mangled  crew.  The  enemy,  however,  were  not  able  to  take 
i  ossession  of  her,  and  subsequent  circumstances  enabled  her 
again  to  hoist  her  flag. 

9.  Commodore  Perry  now  made  signal  for  close  action. 

A,    »  .     ■        -    II-        ■  I     -  ■     ■    — .—      — .-I ■     ^     ..  .      -  --  —  I    ■■— — , —  ^-■.     ■ -■— .^  —J—  .  ,m,,  mm-  ■  — ■  I  .I..—    I.  —  .  .1. 

Did  commodore  Perrv  continue  on  board  the  Lawrence  through  thi 
wliolo  engagement  T — \*hy  did  he  leave  it,  and  under  what  circuni 
stances  ? 


344 


BATTLE  OF  ERhZ. 


find  the  RTnall  vessels  got  out  their  sweeps,  and  mnde  all  grII 
Finding  that  the  Niagara  was  but  little  injured,  he  deter- 
mined, if  possible,  to  break  the  enemy's  line.  He  accord- 
ingly bore  up,  and  passed  ahead  of  the  two  ships  and  brig, 
giving  theni  a  raking  fire  from  his  starboard  guns,  and  also 
to  a  large  schooner  and  sloop  from  his  larboard  side  at  half 
pistol  shot.  Having  passed  the  whole  squadron,  he  luffied  ups 
and  laid  his  ship  alongside  the  British  commodore.  The 
smaller  vessels,  under  the  direction  of  captain  Elliot,  having, 
in  the  mean  time,  got  within  grape  and  canister  distance, 
ind  keeping  up  a  well  directed  fire,  the  whole  of  the  enemy 
struck.,  excepting  two  small  vessels,  which  attempted  to  es- 
cape, but  were  taken. 

10.  The  engagement  lasted  about  three  hours,  and  never 
was  victory  more  decisive  and  complete.  The  captured 
squadron  exceeded  ours  in  weight  of  metal  and  number  of 
guns.  Their  crews  were  also  more  numerous  ;  ours  were  a 
motley  collection,  where  there  were  some  good  Ktamen,  bul 
eked  out  with  soldiers,  volunteers,  and  boys,  and  many  were 
on  the  sick  list.  More  prisoners  were  taken  than  we  had 
men  to  guard.  The  loss  on  both  sides  was  severe.  Scarcely 
any  of  the  Lawrence*s  crew  escaped  unhurt.  Among  those 
slain,  was  lieutenant  Brooks,  of  the  marines,  a  gay  and  ele^ 
gant  young  officer,  full  of  spirit,  of  amiable  manners,  and 
remarkable  for  his  personal  beauty.  Lieutenti  ^  Yr-rnalK 
though  repeatedly  wounded,  refused  to  quit  tiie  deck  daring 
^e  whole  of  the  action. 

11.  Commodore  Perry,  notwithstanding  that  he  was  con- 
tinually in  the  most  exposed  situations  of  the  battle,  escaped 
uninjured  ;  he  wore  an  ordinary  seaman's  dress,  which,  per- 
haps, prevented  him  from  being  picked  off  by  the  enemy's 
sharp  shooters.  He  had  a  younger  brother  with  him,  on 
board  the  Lawrence,  as  midshipman,  who  was  equally  fortu- 
nate in  receiving  no  injury,  though  his  shipmates  fell  all 
around  him.  Two  Indian  chiefs  had  been  stationed  in  the 
tops  of  the  Detroit,  to  shoot  down  our  officers  ;  but  when  the 
action  became  warm,  so  panic  struck  were  they  with  the  ter- 
rors of  the  scene,  and  the  strange  perils  that  surrounded 
them,  that  they  fled  precipitately  to  the  hold  of  the  ship, 
where  they  were  found  after  tlie  battle,  in  a  state  of  utter 
consternation.  The  bodies  of  several  other  Indians  are  said 
to  have  been  found  the  next  day  on  the  shores  of  the  lake, 


SURRENDER  OF  aUEBEC. 


346 


supposed  to  have  been  killed  during  the  engagement,  and 
thrown  overboard. 

12.  It  is  impossible  to  state  the  number  of  killed  on  board 
the  enemy.  It  must,  however,  have  been  very  great,  as  their 
vessels  were  literally  cut  to  pieces  ;  and  the  masts  of  their 
two  principal  ships  so  shattered  that  the  first  gale  blew  them 
overboard.  Commodore  Barclay,  the  British  commander, 
certainly  did  himself  honor  hy  a  brave  and  obstinate  resist* 
ance.  He  had  seen  much  service,  having  been  desperately 
wounded  in  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  and  ailerwards  losing  an 
arm  in  another  engagement  with  the  French.  In  the  pre- 
sent battle,  he  was  twice  carried  below,  on  account  of  \m 
wounds,  and  had  the  misfortune  to  have  his  remaining  hand 
shot  away.  While  below  the  second  time,  his  officer  came 
down  and  told  him  that  they  must  strike,  as  the  ships  were 
cut  to  pieces,  and  the  men  could  not  be  kept  to  their  guns. 
Commodore  Barclay  was  then  carried  on  deck,  and  after 
taking  a  view  of  their  situation,  and  finding  all  chance  of 
success  was  over,  reluctantly  gave  orders  to  strike. 


per- 


In  th« 
ter- 
Inded 
I  ship, 
I  utter 
said 
llake, 


SURRENDER  OF  QUEBEC. 

1.  CluEBEc  Stands  on  the  north  side  of  the  St.  Lawrenco, 
and  on  the  west  of  the  St.  Charles,  which  latter  river  emp- 
ties into  the  former  immediately  below  the  town.  Its  fortifi- 
cations are  strong,  and  the  city  elegant  and  extensive.  It 
consists  of  an  upper  and  lower  town  ;  the  lower  town  is  built 
upon  the  strand,  which  stretches  along  the  base  of  the  lofty 
rock  on  which  the  upper  is  situated.  This  rock  continues 
with  a  bold  and  steep  front,  far  to  the  westward,  parallel  to 
and  near  the.  river  St.  Lawrence.  On  this  side,  therefore, 
the  city  might  well  be  deemed  inaccessible.  On  the  other, 
it  was  protected  by  the  river  St.  Charles,  in  which  were 
several  armed  vessels  and  floating  batteries,  deriving  addi- 
tional security  from  a  strong  boom  drawn  across  its  mouth. 
The  channel  of  this  river  is  rough  and  broken,  and  its  borders 

Who  commanded  the  British  squadron  ? — Wjiat  injur}'  did  mmino- 
dore  Barclay  receive  in  the  cnjvrtpfemenl  r — Wi>at  is  the  t;ituation  of 
Quebec  •' 


mf 


■■ 


346 


SURRENDER  OP  aUEBEC. 


intersected  wiih  ravines.  On  its  left  or  eastern  bank,  was 
encamped  a  French  army  strongly  intrenched,  and  amount- 
ing, according  to  all  the  English  accounts,  to  ten  thousand 
men.  The  encampment  extended  from  the  St.  Charles  east- 
ward to  the  river  Montmorency,  and  its  rear  was  covered  by 
an  almost  impenetrable  wood. 

2.  To  render  this  army  still  more  formidable,  it  was  com- 
manded by  a  general,  who,  in  the  course  of  the  present  war, 
had  given  signal  proofs  of  active  courage,  and  consummate 
prudence.  The  same  marquis  de  Montcalm,  who,  when 
strong  enough  to  act  offensively,  had  so  rapidly  cairied  Os- 
wego and  fort  William  Henry,  and  who,  when  reduced  to 
the  defensive,  had  driven  Abercrombie  with  so  much  slaugh- 
ter from  the  walls  of  Ticonderoga,  was  now  at  the  head  of 
the  army  which  covered  Quebec,  and  was  an  antagonist  in 
all  respects  worthy  of  Wolfe. — Although  perceiving,  in  their 
full  extent,  the  difficulties  with  which  he  was  environed,  the 
British  general  possessed  a  mind  too  ardent,  and  '  o  replete 
with  military  enthusiasm,  to  yield  to  them.  Unpromising  as 
were  his  prospects,  he  did  not  hesitate  respecting  the  part 
it  became  him  to  take.  He  could  not  submit  to  the  dis- 
grace of  relinquishing  an  enterprise  intrusted  to  him,  while 
any  human  means  for  accomplishing  his  object  remained 
unessayed. 

3.  A  bold  plan  was  formed,  well  adapted  to  the  adventu- 
rous spirit  of  the  English  general,  and  the  desperate  situa- 
tion of  his  affairs.  This  was  to  land  the  droops  in  the  night 
a  small  distance  above  the  city,  on  the  northern  bank  of  the 
river,  and  by  scaling  a  precipice  accessible  only  by  a  narrow 
path,  and  therefore  but  weakly  guarded,  to  gain  by  the 
morning  the  heights  back  of  the  town,  where  it  has  been 
stated  to  have  been  but  slightly  fortified.  The  difficulties 
attending  the  execution  of  this  scheme  are  represented  to 
have  been  numerous.  The  stream  was  rapid,  the  shore 
shelving,  the  intended  and  only  practicable  landing  place  so 
narrow  as  to  be  easily  missed  in  the  dark,  and  the  steep 
above,  such  as  not  to  be  ascended  without  difficulty  even 
when  unopposed.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  was  appa- 
rent, that  a  discovery  and  a  vigorous  opposition  would  not 

Who  commanded  tho  French  army  ? — Who  commanded  the  Fiih 
gli«h  ? — How  did  general  Wolft  effect  a  landing  ? 


SURRENDER  OF  ClUEBEC. 


;M7 


litua' 
ight 

fthe 
row 
the 

Ibeen 
Ities 
d  to 
ihore 
ie  so 
^teep 

leven 

jppa- 
not 


only  defeat  the  enterprise,  but  probably  occasion  the  dest^uc 
tion  of  a  great  part  of  the  troops  engaged  in  it. 

4.  This  bold  resolution  being  taken,  the  admiral  movec? 
up  the  river,  several  leagues  above  the  place  where  it  wa« 
designed  to  land,  and  made  demonstrations  of  an  intention 
to  debark  a  body  of  troops  at  different  places.  During  th« 
night,  a  strong  C^etachment  was  put  on  board  the  flat  boi- 
tomed  boats  and  .'ell  silently  down  with  the  tide  to  the  place 
fixed  on  for  the  descent,  which  was  made  with  equal  secrecy 
and  vigor,  about  a  mile  above  cape  Diamond,  an  hour  before 
day  break,  Wolfe  himself  being  the  first  man  who  leaped  on 
shore.  The  highlanders  and  light  infantry  who  composed 
the  van,  under  the  particular  command  of  colonel  Howe, 
were  intended  to  secure  a  four-gun  battery,  which  defended 
an  intrenched  path  by  which  the  heights  were  to  be  ascend- 
ed ;  and,  dislodging  from  thence  a  captain's  guard,  to  cover 
the  landing  of  the  remaining  troops. 

5.  The  violence  of  the  current  forced  them  rather  below 
the  point  of  debarcation,  and  this  circumstance  increaxed 
their  difficulties.  However,  scrambling  up  the  precipice, 
by  the  aid  of  the  rugged  projections  of  the  rocks,  and  the 
branches  of  trees  and  plants  growing  on  the  cliffs,  into  which 
it  was  every  where  broken,  they  gained  the  heights,  and 
very  quickly  dispersed  the  guard,  which  did  not  mako  the 
resistance  to  have  been  expected  from  the  advantagec  of 
their  situation.  The  whole  army  followed  up  this  niarrow 
pass,  and  having  only  encountered  a  scattering  fire  from 
some  Canadians  and  Indians,  from  which  very  little  h&ti  was 
sustained,  they  gained  the  summit  by  the  break  of  day,  \jtfhere 
the  corps  were  formed  under  their  respective  leaders. 

6.  The  intelligence  that  the  English  were  in  possibssion 
of  the  heights  of  Abraham  was  soon  conveyed  to  Moniealm. 
Relieving  it  to  be  impossible  that  an  enterprise  attended  with 
60  much  difficulty  could  have  been  achieved,  that  okTicer 
supposed  it  to  be  only  a  feint,  made  with  a  small  detach- 
ment, for  the  purpose  of  drawing  him  from  his  present 
strong  and  well  chosen  position.  On  being  convinced  of 
his  error,  he  comprehended  at  once  the  full  force  of  the  ad- 
vantage which  had  been  gained,  and  the  necessity  it  impos- 
ed on  him  of  changing  his  plan  of  operations.  Percpivina 
that  a  battle  was  no  longer  avoidable,  and  that  ihe  fate  of 
Quebec  depended  on  its  issue,  lie  prepared  fir  it  with  prompt- 


348 


SURRENDER  OF  QUEBEC 


ness  and  with  courage.  Leaving  his  strong  camp  at  Mont- 
morency, he  crossed  the  river  St.  Charles  fur  the  purpose 
of  attacking  the  English  army. 

7.  This  movement  was  made  in  the  view  of  Wolfe,  who 
without  loss  of  time  formed  his  order  of  battle.  His  right 
wing  was  commanded  by  general  Monckton,  and  his  left  by 
general  Murray.  The  right  flank,  was  covered  by  the  Lou- 
isburg  grenadiers,  and  the  rear  and  left  by  the  light  infantry 
of  Howe,  who  had  now  returned  from  the*  four-gun  battery. 
The  reserve  consisted  of  Webb's  regiment,  drawn  up  in 
eight  sub-divisions  with  large  intervals  between  them. — 
Montcalm  had  formed  his  right  and  left  wing  about  equally 
of  European  and  colonial  troops.  His  centre  consisted  of  a 
column  of  Europeans  ;  and  two  small  field  pieces  were 
brought  up  to  play  on  the  English  line.  In  this  order  he 
marched  to  the  attack,  advancing  in  his  front  about  one 
thousand  five  hundred  militia  and  Indians,  who  were  shel- 
tered by  bushes,  from  wlience  they  kept  up  on  the  English 
an  irregular  and  galling  fire. 

8.  The  movement  of  the  French  indicating  an  intention 
to  flank  his  left,  general  Wolfe  ordered  the  battalion  of  Am- 
herst, with  the  two  battalions  of  royal  Americans,  to  that 
part  of  his  line,  where  they  were  formed  en  potence  under 
general  Townshend,  presenting  to  the  enemy  a  double  froni. 
Disregarding  the  irregular  fire  of  the  Canadian  militia  and 
Indians,  he  ordered  his  troops  to  reserve  themselves  for  the 
main  body  of  the  enemy,  advancing  in  the  rear  of  those  ir- 
regulars;  but  in  the  mean  time,  a  field  piece  which  had 
been  brought  up,  played  briskly  and  with  effect  on  the 
French  column.  Montcalm  had  taken  post  on  the  left  of 
the  French  army,  and  Wolfe  on  the  right  of  the  English,  so 
that  the  two  generals  met  each  other,  at  the  head  of  their  re- 
spective troops,  where  the  battle  was  most  severe. 

9.  The  French  advanced  briskly  to  the  charge,  and  com- 
menced the  action  with  great  animation.  The  English  are 
stated  to  have  reserved  their  fire  until  the  enemy  were  within 
forty  yards  o'them,  when  they  gave  it  with  imnvense  effect. 
It  was  kept  i  p  for  some  time  with,  great  spirit,  when  Wolfe, 
advancing  at  the  head  of  Bragg's  and  the  Louisburg  grena- 
diers with  charged  bayonets,  received  a  mortal  wound,  of 
which  he  soon  afterwards  expired.  Undismayed  by  the  loss 
of  their  general,  the  English  continued  their  exertionr;  under 


SURRENDER  OF  QUEBEC. 


349 


roni. 

and 

the 

e  ir- 

had 

the 

't  of 

so 

r  re- 

jom- 
are 
ithin 
Feet, 
[olfe, 
lena- 
of 

loS8 

ider 


Monckton,  on  whom  the  command  now  devolved.  He  also 
received  a  ball  through  his  body,  which  is  stated  to  have 
passed  through  hie  lungs,  and  general  Townshenc!  took  com- 
mand of  the  British  amy.  About  the  same  time,  Montcalm, 
fighting  in  the  front  of  his  battalions,  received  a  niurtal 
wound ;  and  general  Senezergus,  the  second  in  command, 
also  fell.  The  left  wing  and  centre  of  the  French  began  to 
give  way,  and  being  pressed  close  with  the  English  bayonet 
and  the  highland  broadsword,  were  driven,  notwithstanding 
oiie  attempt  to  rally  and  renew  the  attack,  partly  into  Que- 
bec, and  partly  over  the  St.  Charles  river. 

10.  On  the  left  and  rear  of  the  English,  the  action  was 
less  severe,  and  the  attack  much  less  animated.  The  light 
infantry  had  been  placed  in  the  houses,  and  colonel  Howe, 
the  better  to  support  them,  had  taken  post  with  two  compa- 
nies still  further  to  the  left,  behind  a  copse.  As  the  right 
of  the  French  attacked  the  English  left,  he  sallied  out  from 
this  position  against  their  Hanks,  and  threw  them  into  disor- 
der. In  this  critical  moment^  Townshend  advanced  severa* 
platoons  of  Amherst's  regiment  against  their  front,  and  com- 
pletely frustrated  the  intention  Montcalm  had  formed  of 
turning  the  left  flank.  Townshend  maintained  his  position, 
for  the  purpose  of  keeping  in  check  the  right  wing  of  th  e 
French  and  a  body  of  savages  stationed  opposite  the  light 
infantry,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  into  and  falling  on  their 
rear. 

11.  In  this  state  of  the  action,  Townshend  was  informed 
that  the  command  had  devolved  on  him.  Proceeding  in- 
stantly to  the  centre,  he  found  that  part  of  the  army  thrown 
into  some  disorder  by  the  ardor  of  pursuit,  and  his  immedi- 
ate efforts  were  employed  in  restoring  the  line.  Scarcely 
was  this  effected,  when  Monsieur  de  Bougainville,  who  had 
been  detached  as  high  as  cape  Rouge  to  prevent  a  landing 
above,  and  who  on  hearing  that  the  English  had  gained  the 
plains  of  Abraham,  hastened  to  the  assistance  of  Montcalm, 
appeared  in  the  rear  at  the  head  of  one  thousand  five  hun- 
dred men.  Fortunately,  the  right  wing  of  the  enemy,  as 
M'ell  as  their  left  and  centre,  was  now  entirely  broken,  and 
had  been  driven  off  the  field.  Two  battalions  and  two  pie- 
ces of  artillery  being  advanced  towards  Bougainville,  he  re- 
tired, and  Townshend  did  not  think  it  adviseable  to  risk  tho 

32 


360 


SURRENDER  OF  aUEBEC. 


important  advantages  already  gained,  by  a  pursuit  of  this 
fresh  body  of  troops  through  a  difficult  country. 

12.  Ill  this  decisive  battle,  nearly  equal  numbers  appear 
to  have  been  engaged.  The  English,  however,  possessed 
this  immense  advantage — they  were  all  veterans — while  not 
more  than  half  the  French  army  were  of  the  same  descrip- 
tion. This  circumstance  would  lead  to  an  opinion  that 
some  motive,  not  well  explained,  must  have  existed  to  induce 
Montcalm  to  hazard  a  general  action  before  he  was  joined 
by  Bougainville.  The  French  regulars,  who  do  not  appear 
to  have  been  well  supported  by  the  militia  or  Indians,  were 
almost  entirely  cut  to  pieces.  On  the  part  of  the  English, 
the  loss  was  by  no  means  so  considerable,  as  the  fierceness 
of  the  action  would  indicate.  The  killed  and  wounded  were 
less  than  six  hundred  men  ;  but  among  the  former,  was  the 
commander  in  chief.  This  gallant  officer,  of  whom  the 
most  exalted  expectations  had  very  justly  been  formed ; 
whose  uncofhmon  merit  and  singular  fate  have  presented  a 
rich  theme  for  panegyric  to  both  the  poet  and  historian,  re- 
ceived, in  the  commencement  of  the  action,  a  ball  in  his 
wrist ;  but  without  discovering  the  least  discomposure,  wrap- 
ping a  handkerchief  around  his  arm,  he  continued  to  encoii- 
rage  his  troops™ 

13.  Soon  afterwards,  he  received  a  shot  in  the  groin. 
This  painful  wound  he  also  concealed,  dhd  was  advancing 
at  the  head  of  the  grenadiers,  when  a  third  bullet  pierced 
his  breast.  Though  expiring,  it  was  with  reluctance  he  per- 
mitted himself  to  be  conveyed  into  the  reaV,  where,  careless 
about  himself,  he  discovered,  in  the  agonies  of  death,  the 
most  anxious  solicitude  concerning  the  fate  of  the  day.  Be- 
ing told  that  the  enemy  was  visibly  broken,  he  reclined  his 
head  from  extreme  faintness,  on  the  arm  of  an  officer  stand- 
ing near  him  ;  but  was  soon  aroused  with  the  distant  sound 
of  "  they  fly  !  they  fly  !"  "  Who  fly  V  exclaimed  the  dying 
hero^  On  being  answered  "  the  French,"  "  Then,"  said 
he,  "  I  depart  content ;"  and  almost  immediately  expired  in 
the  arms  of  victory.  "A  death  more  glorious,"  adds  Mr. 
Belsham,  "and  attended  with  circumstances  more  pictu- 
resque and  interesting,  is  no  where  to  be  found  in  the  annals 
of  history." 


What  were  the  words  of  Wolfe  when  told  the  French  were  fled  ' 


ALEXANDER  SELKIRK. 


96i 


14.  With  less  of  good  fortune,  but  not  less  of  heroism, 
expired  the  equally  gallant  Montcalm.  The  same  love  of 
glory,  and  the  same  fearlessness  of  death,  which  in  so  re- 
markable a  manner  distinguished  the  British  hero,  were  not 
less  conspicuous  in  the  conduct  of  his  competitor  for  victory 
and  for  fame.  He  expressed  the  highest  satisfaction  ou 
hearing  that  his  wound  was  mortal ;  and  when  told  he  could 
survive  only  a  few  hours,  quickly  replied,  "  So  much  the 
better ;  I  shall  not  then  live  to  see  the  surrender  of  Que* 
bee."  The  first  days  after  the  action  were  employed  by 
general  Townshend  in  fortifying  his  camp,  cutting  a  road  up 
the  precipice,  for  the  conveyance  of  his  heavy  artillery  to 
the  batteries  on  the  heights,  and  making  the  necessary  prepa- 
rations for  the  siege  of  Quebec.  But  before  his  batteries 
were  opened,  the  town  capitulated,  on  condition  that  the  in- 
habitants should,  during  the  war,  be  protected  in  the  free  ex. 
ercise  of  their  religion,  and  the  full  enjoyment  of  their  civii 
rights,  leaving  their  future  destinies  to  be  decided  by  the 
general  peace. 


ang 
said 


ALEXANDER  SELKIRK. 

Lines  supposed  to  have  been  loritten  by  Alexander  Selkirk, 
during  his  solitary  abode  in  the  island  of  Juan  Fernandez^ 

1.  I  AM  monarch  of  all  I  survey, 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute  ; 
From  the  centre  all  round  to  the  sea, 

I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute. 
O  solitude  !  where  are  the  charms, 

That  sages  have  seen  in  thy  face  1 
Better  dwell  in  the  midst  of  alarms. 

Than  reign  in  this  horrible  place. 

2.  I  am  out  of  humanity's  reach, 

I  must  finish  my  journey  alone  ; 
Never  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech , 
I  start  at  the  sound  of  my  own. 


Id' 


What  were  the  words  of  Montcalm  on  being  told  his  wound  was 
nK>rtiiI  P 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


■^  Bii    12.2 


I 


lUUu 


^ 


w  , 


V 


A^ 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  $TRIIT 

WHSTH.N.Y.  I4SSC 

(716)S72-4S03 


f\ 


iV 


^ 


<^ 


% 


I/. 


v^ 


mmm 


363  ALEXANDER  SELKIRK. 

The  beasts  that  roam  over  the  plain, 
My  form  with  indiiTerence  see  ; 

They  are  so  unacquainted  with  man, 
Their  tameness  is  shocking  to  me. 

3.  Society,  friendship,  and  love,  i 

Divinely  bestow'd  upon  man, 
O,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove. 

How  soon  would  I  taste  you  again ! 
My  sorrows  I  then  might  assuage 

In  the  ways  of  religion  and  truth ; 
Might  learn  from  the  wisdom  of  age, 

And  be  cheerM  by  the  sallies  of  youths 

4.  Religion  !  v«^hat  treasure  untold 

Resides  in  that  heavenly  word  ! 
More  precious  than  silver  and  gold, 
'     Or  all  that  this  earth  can  afford. 
But  the  sound  of  the  church-going  bell 

These  valleys  and  rocks  never  heard  « 
Never  sigh'd  at  the  sound  of  the  knell. 

Or  smird  when  a  sabbath  appeared. 

5.  Ye  winds,  that  have  made  me  your  sport 

Convey  to  this  desolate  shore, 
Some  cordial  endearing  report 

Of  a  land  I  shall  visit  no  more. 
My  friends,  do  they  now  and  then  send 

A  wish  or  a  thought  afler  me  1 
O  tell  me  I  yet  have  a  friend, 

Though  a  friend  I  am  never  to  see. 

6.  How  fleet  is  a  glance  of  the  mind  ! 

ComparM  with  the  speed  of  its  flighL* 
The  tempest  itself  lags  behind, 

And  the  swift  winged  arrows  of  light- 
When  I  think  of  my  own  native  land, 

In  a  moment  I  seem  to  be  there ; 
But,  alas  !  recollection  at  hand 

Soon  hurries  me  back  to  despair. 


I « 


But  the  sea  fowl  is  gone  to  her  nest, 
The  beast  is  laid  down  in  his  lair ; 


BONAPARTE'S  CAMPAIGN  IN  RUSSIA.    JttJJ 

Even  here  is  a  season  of  rest, 

And  I  to  my  cabin  repair. 
There  s  mercy  in  every  place, 

And  mercy,  encouraging  thought, 
Gives  even  affliction  a  grace, 

And  reconciles  man  to  his  lot. 


BONAPARTE'S  CAMPAIGN  IN  RUSSIA. 

1.  The  year  1812  will  stand  as  an  epoch  in  history,  di»> 
tinguished  by  the  commencement  of  a  war,  which  was  ulti- 
mately productive  of  events,  such  as  Europe  had  never 
witnessed  since  the  descendants  of  Japhet  first  spread  them- 
selves over  her  ample  domain.  When  we  consider  the  ele- 
vated rank  of  some  of  the  persons  concerned  in  the  tremen- 
dous  military  drama,  the  extraordinary  talents  of  others,  the 
magnitude  of  the  events,  and  the  importance  of  the  fmal  catas^ 
Urc^he — this  clash  of  contending  nations  may  be  denominattd 
the  war  of  giants. 

2.  The  Russian  emperor,  disdaining  any  longer  to  submit 
ro  the  restrictions  of  the  continental  system  established  by 
the  ruler  of  France,  resolved  to  assert  the  independence,  and 
extend  the  commerce  of  his  empire,  by  opening  his  ports  to 
the  ships  of  all  nations.  This  magnanimous  resolution  gave 
rise  to  a  war  between  France  and  Russia,  of  which  the  fiiM 
campaign  was  attended  with  a  destruction  of  the  human  spe- 
cies unexampled  in  modern  history.  Towards  the  end  o' 
June,  the  emperor  of  the  French  entered  the  Russian  do- 
minions with  an  army  of  nearly  Ihrcn  hundred  thousant 
men,  in  the  highest  state  of  equipment  and  discipline.  With 
this  tremendous  force  he  compelled  the  Russians  to  at>andou 
their  fortified  camp  at  Drissa,  and  after  boing  victorious  in  the 
battles  of  Mohilow  and  Poltosk,  as  well  as  in  several  other 
actions,  he  burned  the  large  city  of  Smolenskow.  Still  pro- 
ceeding into  the  interior  of  Russia,  he  remained  master  of 
the  field  at  the  sanguinary  battle  of  Borodino ;  but  the  car- 
nage was  almost  incredible,  and  the  loss  on  both  sides  nearly 


When  did  the  war  between  Ruseiaand  Franco  commence  ? — What 
was  the  ntimber  of  tho  French  nrmv  that  entered  Russia  ?— Wha» 
important  battles  were  fou^rht  on  their  wav  to  Moscow  r 
32* 


)4H«.yjipi    .< 


354    BONAPARTE'S  CAMPAIGN  IN  RUSSIA. 

equal.  A  view  of  the  ensanguined  scene  is  said  to  have 
drawn  from  the  French  emperor  this  exclamation.  "  Never 
has  there  been  seen  such  a  ^eld  of  battle." 

3.  After  this  bloody  victory,  the  emperor  of  the  French 
advanced  to  Moscow.  On  the  15th  of  September  he  entered 
that  capital,  and  lixed  his  head  quarters  in  the  Kremlin,  the 
ancient  and  magnificent  palace  of  the  czars.  But  the  city 
having  been  set  on  fire  by  the  Russians,  the  invader  found 
himself  in  the  midst  of  smoking  ruins.  Until  this  critical 
moment,  the  military  career  of  the  French  emperor  had  dis- 
played an  unvaried  scene  of  splendid  success.  The  crimson 
wing  of  victory  had  fanned  his  banners ;  and  most  of  the 
nations  of  Europe  regarded  his  arms  as  invincible.  Accus- 
tomed so  long  to  the  smiles  of  fortune,  he  scarcely  supposed 
that  she  would  ever  frown ;  and  when  he  sat  down  on  the 
throne  of  the  czars,  he  never  thought  of  the  abyss  that  wae 
opening  under  his  feet. 

4.  Napoloon  was  no  sooner  master  of  Moscow,  than  he 
ofiered  peace  to  the  emperor  Alexander,  who  magnanimously 
rejected  his  proposals.  The  invader  now  saw  the  impossi- 
bility of  procuring  supplies  for  his  troops  during  the  severe 
season  which  was  approaching.  The  Russian  forces  in  the 
mean  while  daily  increased  in  number,  fresh  troops  arriving 
firom  different  quarters  ;  and  the  winter  set  in  both  somewhat 
sooner  and  with  greater  severity  than  usual.  In  these  cir- 
cumstances. Napoleon  began  his  retreat  on  the  18th  of  Octo- 
ber, exposed  to  the  incessant  attacks  of  the  Russians.  In 
these  bloody  encounters,  the  French  were  generally  defeated ; 
the  severity  of  the  season  in  that  rigorous  climate,  in  con* 
junction  with  hunger  and  fatigue,  being  more  destructive 
than  the  sword,  their  once  formidable  army  was  nearly  anni- 
hilated ;  and  their  retreat  exhibited  a  scene  of  slaughter  and 
loss,  to  which  history  scarcely  affords  any  parallel. 

5.  From  comparing  a  variety  of  documents,  it  appears  that 
there  perished  of  the  French  between  eighty  and  ninety 
thousand,  besides  above  a  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  that 
were  made  prisoners ;  so  that  this  disastrous  retreat  cost 
Napoleon  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men,  forty 

When  did  Bonaparte  enter  Moscow  ? — How  was  his  offer  of  peace 
treated  by  Alexander  ? — What  induced  Bonaparte  to  leave  Moscow  * 
— When  did  he  leave  it  -—How  many  men  did  he  lose  in  hie  retreat 
from  Moscow  ? 


BURNING  OF  MOSCOW 


855 


tliousand  horses,  and  above  eleven  hundred  pieces  of  artil- 
lery, which  he  had  carried  from  France  or  taken  from  the 
Russians.  The  French  emperor,  who  with  hi?  principal  ge- 
nerals escaped  with  great  difficulty,  reached  Paris  about  the 
end  of  December. 

6.  The  victorious  Russians,  who  now  had  the  emperor 
Alexander  at  their  head,  having  driven  the  French  beyond 
4he  frontier,  still  continued  the  pursuit,  and  advanced  without 
opposition  into  Germany.  On  the  4th  of  March,  1813,  they 
entered  Berlin,  where  they  were  received  not  as  invaders,  but 
as  deliverers  from  the  tyrannical  yoke  of  France.  The  na- 
tions who  had  for  a  time  been  obliged  to  submit  to  the  over- 
whelming power  of  Napoleon,  began  to  resolve  on  effecting 
their  emancipation,  rrussia  set  the  example,  which  was 
followed  by  several  German  states ;  and  the  crown  prince 
of  Sweden,  Bernadotte,  formerly  one  of  ?^apoleon*s  generals, 
joined  in  the  confederacy  against  France, 

7.  In  the  mean  while  the  shattered  remnants  of  the  Frencb 
army  having  reached  the  Elbe,  and  received  some  reinfo/c» 
OientSi  concentrated  themselves  on  the  line  of  that  river.. 
And  the  emperor  having  ordered  fresh  levies  of  conscripts^ 
made  formidable  preparations  for  the  ensuing  cainpai|gn. 
Large  bodies  of  troops  marched  from  all  narts  of  France  to 
the  banks  of  the  Elbe ;  hostiKties  commenced  with  great 
vigor  ;  in  several  severe  actions  the  French  had  the  advan-^ 
tage  ;  and  Europe  was  astonished  at  the  numerous  and  fixr 
midable  forces  that  Napoleon  brought  into  the  field,  and  the 
gigantic  efforts  which  he  made,  notwithstanding  his  losses  in 
the  Russian  campaign.  An  armistice,  nowe\er,  was  con* 
eluded,  and  the  contending  powers  entered  into  negotiatiouf 
for  a  peace. 


BURNING  OF  MOSCOW. 

I.  Whether  the  destruction  of  Moscow  was  the  effect 
of  unbounded  patriotism,  or  matter  of  policy,  is  a  speculation 
that  will  long  interest  the  politician.  It  certainly  filled  the 
minds  of  every  individual  with  horror  and  revenge  ;  but  from 
the  previous  unshaken  loyalty,  and  unabated  courage  of  the 

How  rnuij  horses  were  lost  in  tUig  retreat  ?-^low  many  pi«CM  of 
utillery  P 


■I^wn 


35p 


BURNING  OF  MOSCOW. 


Russians,  it  was  scarcely  a  necessary  act  to  stimulate  then^ 
to  further  feelings  of  revenge  against  a  foe,  who  had  already 
given  too  many  insults.  The  city  might  have  been  saved, 
and  the  same*  fate  would  have  pursued  the  followers  of  Na- 
poleon. If  the  provisions  and  store-houses  hdd  'jeen  de- 
stroyed, the  French  could  not  have  remained  longer  than 
they  did.  It  was  entirely  from  the  want  of  provisions  that 
the  retreat  of  the  French  army  became  necessary.  Very 
few  of  the  churches  were  destroyed ;  from  the  nature  of 
their  structure  they  could  not  be  burnt,  though  considerably 
injured — these  alone  were  sufficient  to  h;:ve  contained  one 
hundred  thousand  men. 

2.  Besides,  many  of  the  public  buildings  and  palaces  were 
entirely  built  of  brick,  and  many  of  the  rooms  arched  with  the 
same.  Of  these,  only  the  roofs  and  windows  were  destroyed 
•—and  which  could  have  been  easily  renewed  from  the  neigh- 
boring forests.  It  was  the  original  intention  of  the  Russians, 
only  to  destroy  the  magazines  of  provision,  in  the  event  of 
the  enemy  gaining  possession  of  the  city. — The  stores  were 
in  consequence  kept  unremoved,  until  too  late ;  and  when 
iJ^e  order  was  given  to  set  them  on  fire,  the  frenzy  of  the 
moment  carried  the  framing  torch  to  every  house ;  and  which 
cool  judgment  now  condemns.  The  Exchange  and  store- 
houses were  set  on  fire  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  the 
French  army  entered.  It  partly  communicated  with  the 
contiguous  buildings,  and  all  those  houses  and  hovels  coii 
atructed  of  wood,  soon  fell  a  sacrifice  to  the  flames. 

3.  During  the  evening,  a  violent  storm  arose,  which  con- 
tii^ued  during  three  days,  and  occasioned  a  rapid  expansion 
of  the  fire— still  these  wooden  houses  were  the  only  part  of 
the  city  that  suffered,  with  some  occasional  streets,  where 
the  houses  were  closely  buiit  together — but  all  those  palalces 
and  magnificent  buildings,  which  stood  in  isolated  situations, 
surrounded  by  gardens,  so  chairacteristic  of  Moscow,  were 
all  individually  set  on  fire.  It  is  reported  by  the  present  in- 
habitants who  remained  in  the  city  during  its  occupation  by 
the  French,  that  every  afternoon,  at  a  certain  hour,  the  flames 
burst  out  with  increased  vigor  ;  and  at  those  times,  numerous 

Prom  what  cause  did  the  retreat  of  the  French  army  become  ne- 
oemary  S-.-How  many  persons  might  have  been  accommodated  in  the 
r^urches  not  burnt  i«»- Was  it  the  original  intention  of  the  Rusaiani 
to  burn  Mopoow  ?      ' 


«p 


Pfl  IP 


BURNING  OF  MOSCOW. 


367 


con- 

iusion 
irtof 
here 
ilaices 
ions, 
were 
It  in- 
►nby 
lames 
irous 

lie  ne- 
in  the 
MianB 


reports  of  pistols  were  heard,  which  is  asserted  to  hare  beeu 
used  in  firing  phosphorus  balls  into  the  houses,  and  thus  set- 
ting them  on  fire.  All  the  walls  remained  ;  and  many  of 
them  without  much  injury — but  every  house  was  roofless^ 
and  without  either  windows  or  dbors.  Many  superb  houses 
were  completely  demolished,  particularly  the  theatres. 

4.  It  is  improbable  that  Moscow  will  ever  be  rebuilt  on  t 
scale  equal  to  its  former  magnificence.  The  sister  capital 
is  too  favorite  a  rival,  and  it  is  a  matter  of  policy  in  the  go- 
vernment not  to  increase  Moscow,  in  order  to  draw  its  wealthy 
inhabitants  to  St.  Petersburg.  Another  obstacle  against  the 
immediate  restoration  of  Moscow,  is  the  increased  extrava- 
gance of  the  nobleS)  and  the  immense  expenses  and  sacri- 
fices they  have  lately  undergone  in  expelling  the  French  from 
their  territory,  and  assisting  in  the  security  of  a  genersil 
peace ;  this  has  greatly  limited  their  incomes,  which,  de- 
pending on  the  productions  of  the  soil,  varies,  according  to 
the  necessities  of  the  times — added  to  this,  a  strange  antipa- 
thy to  repair  a  house  once  destroyed,  or  even  to  live  in  a 
paJace  where  a  relation  has  died.  This  is  one  of  the  causes, 
that  many  superb  palaces  are  seen  deserted  by  their  noble 
owners,  and  filled  with  tradesmen.  It  is  now  impossible  for 
many  of  the  nobility  to  raise  such  superb  palaces  as  what 
their  forefathers  have  done. 

5.  In  those  feudal  times,  the  nobles  scarcely  ever  quitted 
their  own  country ;  and  the  means  of  adding  to  the  public 
and  private  debts  of  the  nation  were  less ;  and  the  rage  of 
building  palaces  and  churches  were  more  in  fashion  then, 
than  at  present. — The  inhabitants  were  certainly  lulled  into 
a  belief,  before  the  battle  of  Borodino,  that  the  French  could 
not  enter  the  city ;  and  it  was  not  until  afler  that  eventfVil 
day,  that  the  destruction  of  Moscow  was  decided  upon. 
Dismay  and  confusion  became  general ;  the  aged  and  tlie 
weak  immediately  sought  their  ^safety  in  flight,  leaving  be- 
hind them  the  greater  part  of  their  wealth ;  had  not  this 
false  security  been  allowed  to  prevail,  the  properties  of  indi- 
viduals might  have  been  removed,  and  the  store-houses  alone 
destroyed.  If  this  had  been  the  case,  the  French  army 
could  not  have  remained  longer  than  they  did,  and  the  city 


Is  it  probable  that  Moscow  will  ever  be  rebuilt  as  it  was  before  N- 
Why  not  ? — When  was  the  destruction  determined  on  ? 


E!I3HH-SKr- 


i^58 


THE  KREMLIN  OF  MOSCOW. 


might  have  been  saved ;  except  that  Napoleon,  in  a  fit  of 
disappointed  ambition  at  the  failure  and  disgrace  of  his  plans, 
might  have  ordered  the  city  to  be  blown  up,  as  he  did  the 
Kremlin. 

6.  However,  if  we  put  aside  our  feelings  of  terror,  we 
must  say,  that  the  deed  itself  boasts  of  such  bold  and  fright- 
ful heroism,  and  furnishes  such  a  noble  instance  of  the  pure 
and  wild  passion  of  patriotism,  that  future  ages  will  mark  it 
as  one  of  those  acts,  "  which  can  never  be  wearied  out  by 
time/^  Unhappy  and  ill-fated  city !  may  thy  sufferings  and 
fl-y  sorrows  plead  not  in  vain,  at  the  altar  of  Him,  who  looks 
down  from  on  high ; — may  th}'  vices  and  thy  crimes  be  no 
more  remembered — may  they  perish  in  thy  ruins,  and  mingle 
with  thy  dust — may  thy  flames  ne'er  cease  to  throw  their 
lights  around,  till  distant  nations  catch  the  spark,  break  their 
bonds,  and  be  free — ^nd,  as  the  winds,  the  hollow  winds  of 
night,  sigh  along  the  grass  that  shadows  thy  tombs,  may  thsy 
wander  up  to  heaven,  and  breathe  thine  orisons ! 


THE  KREMLIN  OF  MOSCOW. 

1.  Moscow  is  regularly  divided  by  walls  and  ditches  into 
five  divisions,  the  centre  of  which,  the  Kremlin,  stands  on 
an  elevated  ridge  of  ground,  on  the  west  side  of  the  Moskwa. 
It  is  the  citadel  or  fortress  of  the  town,  and  easily  commands 
all  parts  of  it.  This  was  the  first  part  of  Moscow  that  was 
built  in  the  twelfth  century,  more  from  accident,  than  any 
design  in  its  noble  founder,  to  lay  it  as  the  foundation  of  a 
future  capital.  The  beauty  of  its  situation  and  the  surround- 
mg  country,  induced  the  future  sovereigns  of  the  country  tc 
strengthen  its  situation,  and  fix  in  it  the  royal  residence. 
From  that  time,  the  infant  city  gradually  increased  in  size, 
and  swelled  around,  until  Peter  the  Great  removed  the  seat 
of  government  to  St.  Petersburg  ;  and  after  that  period,  it 
l>ecame  more  the  residence  of  discontented  nobles,  and  those 
who  did  not  choose  to  be  eclipsed  by  the  superior  splendor 
of  the  court. 


In1»  how  many  parts  is  Moscow  divided  ? — What  is  the  central  oim 
mlled  P— When  was  it  built  ? 


THE  KREMLIN  OF  MOSCOW. 


969 


(it  of 

id  the 

)r,  we 
light- 
;  pure 
ark  it 
out  by 
^s  and 
» looks 
be  no 
mingle 
1  their 
k  their 
ndsof 
ly  they 


les  into 
mds  on 
[oskwa. 
amando 
lat  wai 
lan  any 
on  of  a 
rround- 
intry  tc 
ddence. 
in  size, 
he  seat 
riod,  it 
d  those 
plendor 


2.  From  the  singularity  of  so  many  parts  of  the  town 
Deing  walled  in,  one  within  another,  it  bears  marks  of  those 
ages  of  feudal  despotism,  when  every  chief  lived  within  his 
fortified  castle,  while  his  numerous  dependants  sheltered 
themselves  under  its  bulwarks.  As  the  retinue  and  follow- 
ers augmented,  the  buildings  increased  to  such  an  extent 
as  in  time  to  require  a  similar  bulwark,  and  thus  became  an 
enclosed  city.  Without  these  walls,  new  suburbs  wduld  be 
raised  which  would  increase  in  extent  to  the  former,  and  ul- 
mately  require  a  similar  fortification,  and  so  on.  This  ap- 
pears to  have  been  the  cause  of  the  present  outline  of  Mos- 
cow, (the  Kremlin  forming  as  it  were  the  kernel  of  the  nut ;) 
and,  probably,  had  not  St.  Petersburg  been  reared,  what  is 
now  the  exterior  boundary  of  the  suburbs,  might  have  been 
raisei  to  a  wall,  and  new  suburbs,  and  a  larger  circumfer 
rence,  taken  in. 

3.  The  extent  of  the  wall  which  surrounds  the  Kremlin^ 
is  about  a  mile  and  a  half-^that  which  encompasses  the 
third  division  is  about  five  miles,  while  that  of  the  fourth  is 
nearly  twenty-five  miles.  Only  the  Kremlin  and  second  di- 
vision are  walled  in — ^the  third  division  appears  to  have  been 
surrounded  by  an  earthen  rampart,  but  which  has  been 
partly  levelled.  The  external  boundary  of  the  suburbs  is  a 
narrow  dry  ditch  about  three  feet  deep.  Of  these  different 
fortified  p&rts  of  the  city,  that  of  the  Kremlin  is  the  most 
conspicuous,  and  the  most  singular.  Here  the  ingenuity  of 
the  artist  has  been  displayed  to  its  utmost  extent,  and  the 
riches  of  the  state  deposited.  Within  the  once  sacred  walls 
of  this  spot,  the  mighty  monarchs  of  the  empire  held  their 
court ;  and  here  the  most  dignified  ministers  of  the  church 
shared  the  pomp  and  splendor  of  the  imperial  court. 

4.  The  most  prominent  buildings  in  the  Kremlin  are  the 
churches,  the  imperial  and  patriarchal  palaces,  and  the  ar 
senal.  The  great  cathedral  does  not  equal  the  expectation  of 
the  stranger ;  it  exhibits  an  oblong  square,  lost  in  the  dis- 
proportion of  the  height  of  the  wall ;  the  roof  is  surmounted 
by  numerous  large  gilded  cupolas,  each  of  which  supports  a 
magnificent  cross  richly  ornamented  with  curious  devices. 
The  interior  of  the  church  is  extremely  rich  in  gildings  and 


ntral  ons 


What  is  the  extent  of  the  wall  that  surrounds  the  Kremlin  of  Mos* 
oow  ? — ^What  are  the  most  prominent  buildings  of  the  Kremlin  ? 


360 


THE  KREMLIN  OF  MOSCOW. 


colors,  but  heavy  and  badly  arranged.  Opposite  this  cathe- 
dral,  is  seen  the  cathedral  of  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin 
Mary.  It  is  larger  than  the  other,  but  similar  in  design.  In 
it  are  seen  suspended  from  the  roof,  nine  massive  chanda^ 
Hers  of  silver,  and  some  very  beautiful  paintings.  Among 
the  most  valuable  of  these  paintings  is  a  head  of  the  Virgin, 
richly  studded  over  with  jewels  and  precious  stones,  kept  in 
a  gold  box,  near  the  altar — this  venerated  picture  is  shown 
to  every  stranger  by  one  of  the  officiating  priests,  and  who 
regularly  demands  a  donation  for  the  miracles  which  it 
wr-jjght. 

6.  In  this  church  are  seen  the  tombs  or  stone  coffins  of  the 
patriarchs,  covered  with  black  velvet.  In  this  cathedral  the 
czars  are  generally  crowned,  and  interred  in  the  other. 
Between  these  churches,  and  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the 
Kremlin,  stands  the  spire  of  St.  Ivan,  the  highest  building 
in  Moscow.  The  body  of  the  church  was  completely  de- 
stroyed by  Napoleon's  order,  but  is  again  rebuilt  on  its  for- 
mer plan.  The  spire  is  built  of  a  circular  form,  and  about 
300  feet  high.  The  top  terminates  by  a  large  conical  shap- 
ed cupola  richly  gilt,  and  surmounted  by  a  huge  plain  cross. 
The  present  cross  is  a  substitute  for  the  former  one,  which 
being  made  of  pure  silver,  was  seized  by  Bonaparte.  From 
the  height  of  the  building,  and  its  ruinous  state,  it  was 
thought  a  dangerous  attempt  to  take  it  down.  Napoleon 
offered  a  reward  to  any  one  who  had  sufficient  courage  to 
accomplish  it.  A  native  Russ,  it  is  said,  performed  the  sa- 
crilegious deed,  and  the  silver  '.ross  became  the  property  of 
the  invader,  br.t  v/hich  was  recovered  before  his  flight  from 
the  city* 

6.  The  spire  is  divided  into  three  apartments,  which  con- 
tain the  bells ;  in  the  lower  division  are  eight  large  bells, 
nine  in,  the  second,  and  thirteen  in  the  third.  The  largest 
of  these  bells  fell  to  the  ground  at  the  destruction  of  the 
church,  but  fortunately  without  any  injury.  This  is  the 
largest  bell  in  Moscow,  except  what  is  called  the  Great  Bell^ 
now  buried  under  the  ruins  of  the  church.  From  the  upper 
division  of  this  spire,  the  most  commanding  view  of  the  city 
is  taken.  The  whole  town,  suburbs,  and  surrounding  coun- 
try, are  distinctly  seen  spreading  around  in  every  direction. 


What  is  the  height  of  thespire  of  St.  Ivau  in  Moscow  ? 


THE  KREMLIN  0¥  MOSCOW 

Hko  a  vast  map^  itudded  with  the  moet  groteique  buUdiojra ; 
whilo^  the  Moskwa,  in  all  its  windings^  appears  as  a  flat, 
muddy  stream,  meandering  and  struggling  through  the  end 
less  avenues  of  the  city.  Perhaps  no  sight  can  equal  the  di- 
versity and  grandeur  of  this.  No  smoky  atmosphere  clouds 
the  transparency  of  the  azure  canopy  of  heaven — ail  is 
bright  and  resplendent. 

7.  Near  to  the  belfry  of  St.  Ivans,  is  seen  the  top  of  the 

freat  bell,  which  was  cast  in  the  reign  of  the  empress  Anne, 
lany  descriptions  have  been  given  of  this  extraordinary 
bell ;  only  the  top  can  now  be  seen,  the  pit  in  which  it  lay 
being  completely  filled  up  with  the  ruins  of  the  church. 
This  is  the  largest  bell  ever  founded,  and  it  remains  in  the 
place  where  it  was  originally  cast.  Its  weight  is  computed 
to  be  44,377  pounds ;  its  circumference  is  sixty-seven  feet 
and  four  inches ;  and  its  height  is  twenty-one  feet  and  four 
inches.  The  Russians  relate,  that  while  this  bell  was  in  fu- 
sion, the  nobles  and  the  people  cast  in,  as  votive  offerings, 
their  plate  and  money  ;  and  consequently  that  it  contains  a 
large  quantity  of  gold  and  silver. 

6.  Besides  these  churches,  there  are  the  convent  of  Ischu- 
dof,  and  the  church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  and  some  small 
chapels.  The  church  of  the  Holy  Trinity  forms  the  prince 
pal  gateway,  or  entry  to  the  Kremlin  from  the  fourth  divi- 
sion of  the  city.  In  this  church  the  body  of  a  distinguished 
saint  is  placed ;  and  in  respect  to  his  remains,  every  indi- 
vidual passing  under  the  portal  is  compelled  to  uncover  his 
head.  Besides  the  churches,  convents,  and  monasteries,  the 
Kremlin  contains  the  palaces  of  the  czars  and  of  the  patri- 
archs, with  the  arsenal  and  some  other  modern  buildings. 
None  of  them  are  particularly  grand.  Within  the  walls  of 
the  Kremlin  there  are  not  less  than  one  hundred  and  eight 
spires  and  cupolas ;  of  these,  forty-five  are  richly  gilded,  the 
rest  are  painted  either  green,  red,  or  white. 

9.  The  house  in  which  Napoleon  lodged  is  the  most 
modern  and  elegant  building  in  the  Kremlin.  The  view 
from  it  is  most  extensive.  In  front  of  the  house  are  ranged 
the  guns  taken  from  the  French  army  during  their  retreat 
from  Moscow.    They  are  placed  on  the  ground  parallel  to 


What  is  th«  wtight  of  the  Great  BeU  of  Momow  f-'^VLom  mun 
«^t«  and  enoolas  art  thorn  m  •»••  ^rAni!i» ' 


ts 


THE  KREMLIN  OF  MOSCOW. 

«eh  other,  with  tickets  affixed  to  each  division,  markiug  the 
time  and  place  where  they  were  taken.  The  first  line  com* 
prehends  sixty  beautiful  pieces  of  light  artillery,  with  N^^h^ 
[eon's  initials  on  each ;  the  other  divisions  contain  the  gunb 
of  all  the  kingdoms  and  states  of  Europe,  of  various  dimen- 
sions. Altogether,  there  are  eight  hundred  guns,  the  glori- 
ous trophy  of  the  Russian  conquest !  ' 

10.  It  is  impossible  to  give  any  particular  description  of 
the  pa!accs  or  riches  of  the  Kremlin ;  it  is  only  the  bare 
walls,  ruinous  and  deserted,  that  now  invite  the  strai^ger's 
curiosity.  When  all  hopes  were  banished  from  the  ambi- 
tious and  discontented  mind  of  the  French  ruler,  and  when 
he  found  that  he  could  no  longer  maintain  his  usurpation  of 
the  seat  of  the  czars,  he  determined  on  destroying  what  he 
had  not  the  courage  nor  strength  to  defend.  The  beautiful 
church  of  St.  Ivan  fell  as  the  first  sacrifice  to  his  revenge. 
The  walls  of  the  Kremlin  were  next  mined — the  explosion 
took  place  ;  but  from  its  immense  thickness',  only  a  part  of 
it  was  destroyed.  The  north-west  angle,  with  two  fine 
spires,  was  completely  destroyed,  occupying  nearly  one  hun- 
dred yards  in  extent.  On  the  east  side  next  to  the  river, 
are  two  considerable  breaches.  Tbf?  rest  of  the  wall  is  per- 
fectly entire. 

11.  Many  parts  of  the  wall  are  iicn/ly  forty  feet  in  thick* 
niess,  and  in  general  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  in  height. 
The  top  of  the  wall  is  divided  into  a  number  of  Gothic  loop- 
holes, and  at  regular  distances  by  Gothic  spires.  There  are 
six  gates  by  which  the  Kremlin  is  entered,  though  only  two 
of  them  are  used.  A  new  and  elegant  promenade  was  lately 
finished  between  the  east  wall  and  the  river,  which  addk 
greatly  to  the  beauty  of  the  Kremlin,  from  wha'  is  rep'-e- 
sentcd  in  old  drawings.  The  Kremlin  has  long  been  con- 
sidered, by  those  who  have  not  beheld  it,  as  a  spot  of  un- 
common magnificence  and  extent.  It  certainly  does  not 
answer  that  high  description  which  the  traveller  is  led  to  ex- 
pect. The  buildings  are  numerous,  but  they  are  heavily 
constructed,  and  grouped  together  without  order  or  design— 
every  thing  is  sacrificed  to  mere  show  of  gildings  and  use 
less  cupolas. 

How  many  pienes  of  artillery  are  there  in  the  Kremlin  of  Moscow 
captured  bv  ths  Rassians  ? — Wbat  is  the  IbieknMfi  of  Ibe  wa&oT 
Ike  Kremlia  ^ 


t^^t 


BATTUE  OF  NEW  ORLEANS. 
BATTLE  OF  NEW  ORLEANS. 


1.  On  the  morning  of  the  first  of  January,  1815,  Sir  Ed 
ward  Packenliam  was  discovered  to  have  constructed  batteries 
near  the  American  works,  and  at  day-light  commenced  a 
heavy  fire  from  them,  which  was  well  returned  by  Jackson. 
A  bold  attempt  was,  at  the  same  time,  made  to  turn  the  left 
of  the  Americans ;  but  in  this  the  enemy  was  completely  re 
pulsed.  The  British  retired  in  the  evening,  from  their  bat 
teries,  having  spiked  their  guns,  and  leaving  behind  a.  quan 
Uty  of  ammunition.  The  loss  of  the  Americans,  on  this 
occasion,  was  eleven  killed  and  twenty-three  wounded.  On 
ihe  fourth,  general  Jackson  was  joined  by  two  thousand  five 
hundred  Kentuckians,  under  general  Adair ;  and  on^  tho 
sixth,  the  British  were  joined  by  general  Lambert,  at  r  .? 
head  of  four  thousand  men.  The  British  force  now  amour  i;* 
ed  to  little  short  of  fifteen  thousand  of  the  finest  troops  *  th»t 
of  Uie  Americans  to  about  six  thousand,  cMefly  raw  .ailitia, 
a  soasiderable  portion  i,  larmed,  and  fjom  the  hapte  of  the?r 
'lepaitutfi,  badly  supplied  with  clothing.  Ail  the  private  ^um^ 
nvbich  the  inhii.bitants  possessed  vyere  collected,  and  the  la- 
dies of  New  Orleans  occupied  themselves  continually  in 
making  different  articles  of  clothing.  The  mayor  of  the 
city,  Mr.  Girod,  was  particularly  active  at  this  trying  moment* 

2.  The  British  general  now  prepared  for  a  serious  attempt 
nn  the  American  works.  With  great  labor  he  had  complet- 
ed, by  the  seventh,  a  canal  from  the  swamp  to  the  Missia« 
sippi,  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  transport  a  number  of  his 
boats  to  the  river ;  it  was  his  intention  to  make  a  simultane- 
ous attack  on  the  main  force  of  general  Jackson  on  the  left 
Dank,  and,  crossing  the  river,  to  attack  the  batteries  on  the 
right.  The  works  of  the  American  general  were  by  this 
time  completed ;  his  front  was  a  straight  line  of  one  thousand 
yards,  defended  by  upwards  of  three  thousand  infantry  aiiu 
artillerists^  The  ditch  contained  five  feet  of  water ;  and  his 
front,  from  having  been  flooded  by  opening  the  levees  and 
frequent  rains,  was  rendered  slippery  and  muddy.  Eight 
distinct  batteries  were  judiciously  disposed,  n^ounting  in  all 
twelve  guns  of  different  calibres.     On  the  opposite  side  of 

Who  commanded  the  British  in  their  attack  on  New  Orleaci  ? 
— ^Who  commanded  the  Amnricans  ? — How  large  was  general  Jade* 
■on'fl  army ' — How  numerona  was  the  British  force  f 


\ 


I 


mmm 


tm^im'^ 


wmm 


mmm 


964 


i 
BATTDE  'OP  NEW  ORLEANS 


the  river,  there  was  a  strong  battery  of  fifteen  guns,  and  the 
entrenchments  were  occupied  by  general  Morgan,  with  the 
Louisiana  militia,  and  a  strong  detachment  of  the  Kentucky 
troops.  , 

3.  On  the  memorable  mor'Jng  of  the  eighth  of  January, 
general  Packenham,  having  detached  colonel  Thornton  wiUi 
4  considerable  force,  to  attack  the  works  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  river,  moved  with  his  whole  force,  exceeding  twelve 
thousand  men,  in  two  divisions,  under  major-generals  Gibbs 
and  Kean ;  and  a  reserve  under  general  Lambert.  The  first 
fl»f  these  officers  was  to  make  the  principal  attack ;  the  tvnt 
columns  were  supplied  with  scaling-laidders,  and  fascines. 
Thus  prepared,  thd'^Americans  patiently  waited  the  attack, 
iirhi^  would  decide  the  fate  of  New  Orleans,  and  perhaps 
oi  Louisiana.  The  British  deliberately  advanced  in  solid 
columns,  over  an  even  plain,  in  front  of  the  American  ic* 
CreiQchments,  the  men  carrying,  besides  their  muskets,  fiis>| 
^nes,  and  some  of  them  ladders.  A  dead  silence  pre- 
vailed, until  they  approached  within  reach  of  the  batteries, 
^hioh  commenced  an  incessant  and  destructive  cannonade  ; 
ihey,  notwithstanding,  contiMed  to  advance  in  tolerable  order, 
closing  up  their  ranks,  as  fast  as  they  were  opened  by  the  to 
of  the  Americans. 

4.  When  they  came  within  rieach,  however,  of  the  mus- 
ketry and  rifles,  these  joined  with  the  artillery,  hi:  !  produced 
siich  dreadful  havoc,  that  they  were  instantly  thrown  into 
confilsion.  Never  was  there  so  tremendous  a  fire,  as  that  kept 
up  from  the  American  lines;  it  was  a  continued  stream; 
those  behind  loading  for  the  men  in  front,  enabled  them  to 
Bre  with  scarcely  an  intermission.  The  British  columns 
ivelre  literally  swept  away  ;  hundreds  fbll  at  every  discharge. 
The  British  officers  were  now  making  an  effort  to  rally  their 
men ;  and  in  this  attempt,  their  commander,  a  gallant  officer, 
general  Packenham,  was  killed.  The  two  generals,  Gibbs 
and  Kean,  succeeded  in  pushing  forward  their  polumns  a 
iBecond  time  ;  but  the  second  approach  wa»  more  fatal  than 
the  first ;  the  continued  rolling  fire  of  the  Americans  re* 
k^mbled  peaiis  of  thunder ;  it  was  such  as  no  troops  conid 
withstand ;  the  advancing  columns  broke,  and  no  effort  to 
rally  them  could  avail ;  a  few  platoons  only  advanced  to  the 
edge  of  the  ditch,  to  meet  a  more  certain  destruction. 

i».  An  luiavnili'ng  attempt  was  made  to  bring  them  ixy  a 


mu 


■iV 


■p^"^ 


BATTLE  OF  NEW  ORLEANS. 


305 


ixy  i 


third  time  by  their  officers,  whose  gallantry,  on  this  occa- 
sion, deserved  a  better  fate,  in  a  better  cause.  Generals 
Gibbs  and  Kean  were  carried  away,'  severely  wounded  ;  the 
former  mortally.  The  plain  between  the  front  of  the  British, 
and  the  American  lines,  was  strewed  with  dead ;  so  dreadful 
a  carnage,  considering  the  length  of  time  and  the  numbers 
engaged,  was  perhaps  never  witnessed.  Two  thousand,  at 
the  lowest  estimate,  pressed  the  eatth,  besides  a  number  of 
the  wounded  who  were  not  able  to  escape.  The  loss  of  the 
Americans  did  not  exceed  seven  killed,  and  six  wounded. 
General  Lambert  was  the  only  general  officer  left  upon  the 
field ;  being  unable  to  cheek  the  flight  of  the  British  co- 
lumns, he  retired  to  his  encampment. 

6.  In  the  mean  time,  the  detachment  under  colonel  Thorn- 
ton succeeded  in  landing  on  the  right  bank,  and  immediately 
attacked  the  intrenchment  of  general  Morgan.  The  Ameri- 
can right,  believing  itself  outflanked,  abandoned  its  position, 
while  the  left  maintained  its  ground  for  some  time ;  but  find- 
ing itself  deserted  by  those  on  the  right,  and  being  outnum- 
bered by  the  enemy,  they  spiked  their  guns  and  retired. 
Ck)lonel  Thornton  was  severely  wounded,  and  the  command 
devolved  on  colonel  Gobbins,  who  seeing  the  fate  of  the  as- 
sault on  the  left  bank,  and  receiving  orders  from  general 
Lambert,  re-crossed  the  river. 

7.  On  the  return  of  general  Lambert  to  his  camp,  it  was 
resolved,  in  consultation  with  admiral  Cochrane,  to  retire  to 
their  shipping.  This  was  effected  with  great  secrecy ;  and 
during  the  night  of  the  eighteenth,  their  camp  was  entirely 
evacuated.  From  the  nature  of  the  country,  it  was  found  im- 
possible to  pursue  them ;  they  left  eight  of  their  wounded,  and 
fourteen  pieces  of  artillery.  Their  lo^  in  this  fatal  expedi- 
tion was  immense  ;  besides  their  generals,  and  a  number  of 
valuable  officers,  their  force  was  diminished  by  at  least  live 
thousand  men.  It  was  in  vain,  as  in  other  instances,  to  con- 
ceal the  truth  df  the  affair ;  and  the  sensations  which  it  pro- 
duced in  Great  Britain,  are  not  easily  described ;  the  conduct 
of  the  ministry  was  regarded  as  shamefully  dishonorable,  in 
thus  stretching  forth  ore  hand  to  receive  the  olive,  which 
was  tendered  by  America,  and  at  the  same  time  secrblly 
wielding  a  dagger  with  the  other. 

What  Was  tho  loss  of  the  Americans  at  tho  battle  of  New  Orl«an4i  ? 
•    What  British  officers  were  killed  ? — Hov.- great  was  tho  British  Wmib.' 


" 


^ 


I 


Me 


THE  MISERIES  OF  WAR. 
THE  MISERIES  OF  WAR. 


1.  Though  the  whole  race  of  man  is  doomed  to  dissolu- 
tion, and  we  are  all  hastening  to  our  long  home  ;  yet  at  each 
successive  moment,  life  and  death  seem  to  divide  between 
them  the  dominion  of  mankind,  and  life  to  have  the  larger 
share.  It  is  otherwise  in  war  ;  death  reigns  there  without  a 
rival,  and  without  control.  War  is  the  work,  the  element,  or 
rather  the  sport  and  triumph  of  Death,  who  glories  not  only 
in  the  extent  of  his  conquest,  but  in  the  richness  of  his  spoil. 
In  the  other  methods  of  attack,  in  the  other  forips  which 
death  assumes,  the  feeble  and  the  aged,  who  at  the  best  can 
live  but  a  short  time,  are  usually  the  victims ;  here  they  are 
the  vigorous  and  the  strong. 

2.  It  is  remarked  by  the  most  ancient  of  poets,  that  in 
peace  children  bury  their  parents,  in  war  parents  bury  their 
children  ;  nor  is  the  difference  small.  Children  lament  their 
parents,  sincerely  indeed,  biit  with  that  moderate  and  tran- 
quil sorrow,  which  it  is  natural  for  those  to  feel  who  are 
conscious  of  retaining  many  tender  ties,  many  animating 
prospects.  Parents  mourn  for  their  children  with  the  bitter- 
ness of  despair ;  the  aged  parent,  the  widowed  mother,  loses, 
when  she  is  deprived  of  her  children,  every  thing  but  the 
capacity  of  suffering  ;  her  heart,  withered  and  desolate,  ad- 
mits no  other  object,  cherishes  no  other  hope.  It  is  Rachel, 
weeping  for  her  children  and  refusing  to  be  comforted,  be- 
cause they  are  not. 

3.  But  to  confine  our  attention  to  the  number  of  slain 
would  give  us  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  the  ravages  of  the 
sword.  The  lot  of  those  who  perish  instantaneously  may  be 
considered,  apart  from  religious  prospects,  as  comparatively 
happy,  since  they  are  exempt  from  those  lingering  diseases 
and  slow  torments  to  which  others  are  liable.  We  cannot 
see  an  individual  expire,  though  a  stranger,  or  an  enemy, 
without  being  sensibly  moved,  and  prompted  by  compassion 
to  lend  him  every  assistance  in  our  power.  Every  trace  of 
resentment  vanishes  in  a  moment ;  every  other  emotion  gives 
way  to  pity  and  terror. 

4.  In  these  last  extremities  we  remember  nothing  but  the 
respect  and  tenderness  due  to  our  common  nature.  What  a 
scene  then  must  a  field  of  battle  present,  where  thousands 
are  lefl  without  assistance  and  without  pity,  with  their  wounds 


fttm^n^tmr""^^ 


•W^Mg^MOTM* 


■'»^r 


THE  MISERIES  OF  WAR. 


3(^7 


the 
f  be 

ly 


ive 


jases 

Innot 

jmy, 

jsioii 

of 

rives 

the 
lat  a 
mds 
indfl 


V  exposed  to  the  piercing  air,  while  the  blood  freezing  aa  it 
flows,  binds  them  to  the.  earth,  amidst  the  tramp]ing  of  horses, 
and  the  insults  of  an  enraged  foe  !  If  they  are  spared  by  the 
humanity  of  the  enemy  and  carried  from  the  field,  it  is  but  a 

i,<  prolongation  of  torment.  Conveyed  in  uneasy  vehicles,  oit^zn 
to  a  remote  distance,  through  roads  almost  impassable,  they 
are  lodged  in  ill-prepared  receptacles  for  the  wounded  and 

>  the  sick,  where  the  variety  of  distress  baffles  -all  the  efforts 

^<^  of  humanity  and  skill,  and  renders  it  impossible  to  give  to 
each^he  attention  he  demands.  Far  from  their  native  home, 
no  tender  assiduities  of  friendship,  no  well  known  voice,  no 
.wifO)  or  mother,  or  sister,  is  near  to  sooth  their  sorrows,  re- 
lieve their  thirst,  or  close  their  eyes  in  death !  Unhappy  man  ! 
and  must  you  be  c^wept  into  the  grave  unnoticed  and  unnum- 

^^bered,  and  no  friendly  tear  be  shed  for  your  sufferings  or 
mingled  with  your  dust  ? 

5.  We  must  remember,  however,  that  as  a  very  small  pro- 
r portion  of  a  military  life  is  spent  in  actual  combat,  so  it  is  a 

irery  small  part  of  its  miseries  which  must  be  ascribed  to  this 
source^  More  are  consumed  by  the  rust  of  inactivity  than 
by  the  edge  of  the  sword  ;  confined  to  a  scanty  or  unwhole- 
some diet,  exposed  in  sickly  climates,  harassed  with  tiresome 
marches  and  perpetual  alarms  ;  their  life  is  a  continual  scene 
of  hardships  and  dangers.  They  grow  familiar  with  hunger, 
cold,  and  watchfulness.  Crowded  into  hospitals  and  prisons, 
contagion  spreads  amongst  their  ranks,  till  the  ravages  of  dis- 
ease exceed  those  of  the  enemy. 

6.  We  have  hitherto  only  adverted  to  the  sufferings  of 
those  who  are  engaged  in  the  profession  of  arms,  without 
taking  into  our  account  the  situation  of  the  countries  which 
are  the  scene  of  hostilities.  How  dreadful  to  hold  every 
thing  at  the  mercy  of  an  enemy,  and  to  receive  life  itself  as 
a  boon  dependent  on  th6  sword  !  How  boundless  the  fetirs 
which  such  a  situation  must  inspire,  where  the  issues  of  life 
and  death  are  determined  by  no  known  laws,  principles,  or 
customs,  and  no  conjecture  can  be  formed  of  our  destiny, 
except  as  far  as  it  is  dimly  deciphered  in  characters  of  blood, 
in  the  dictates  of  revenge,  and  the  caprices  of  power  ! 

7.  Conceive  but  for  a  moment  the  consternation  which 
the  approach  of  an  invading  army  would  impress  on  the 
peaceful  villages  in  our  own  neighborhood.  When  you  have 
r^i.nr^ed  yourselves  for  an  instant  in  that  situation,  you  wiH 


I 


, 


1 


P 


mm 


THE  HISTORIAN'S  REFLECTIONa 


learn  to  symDathize  with  those  unhappy  countries  which 
have  sustaine<l  t.ie  ravages  of  arms.  But  how  is  it  possible 
to  give  you  an  idea  of  these  horrors  ?  Here  you  behold  rich 
harvests,  the  bounty  of  Heaven,  and  the  reward  of  industry, 
consume^i  ni  a  moment  or  trampled  under  foot,  while  famine 
and  pestilence  follow  the  steps  of  desolation.  There,  the 
cottages  of  peasants  given  up  to^the  flames,  mothers  expiring 
through  fear,  not  for  themselves  but  for  their  infants ;  the 
inhabitants  flying  M'ith  their  helpless  babes  in  all  directions, 
miserable  fugitives  on  their  native  soil !  In  another  part 
you  witness  opulent  cities  taken  by  storm ;  the  streets  where 
no  sounds  were  heard  but  those  of  peaceful  industry,  filled 
on  a  sudden  with  slaughter  and  blood,  resounding  with  the 
bries  of  the  oursuing  and  ilie  pursued ;  the  palaces  of  no- 
bles demolished,  the  houses  of  the  rich  pillaged,  and  every 
age,  sex,  and  rank,  mingled  in  promiscuous  massacre  and 


rum: 


THE  HISTORIAN'S  REFLECTIONS. 

1.  Through  the  long  period  of  five  ihbusand  years,  the 
<iye  of  the  historian  wanders  among  innumerable  millions, 
and  descries  people,  nations,  and  languages,  who  were  once 
active  in  the  jbusy  scenes  of  time,  but  are  now  reaping  the 
retributions  of  eternity.  The  great  nations  which  enjoyed 
universal  empire  are  now  silent  in  the  dust.  And,  as  objects 
subtend  a  less  angle  in  proportion  to  their  distance,  so  a 
century,  buried  deep  in  the  vale  of  antiquity,  appears  but  as 
an  hour,  and  the  duration  of  a  nation  but  as  a  day.  In  the 
morning  its  infancy  is  weak  ;  and  its  chief  defence  is  in  its 
obscurity  or  insignificance,  or  in  the  weakness  of  others. 
It  gathers  strength  by  adversity,  and  at  length  acquires  a 
vigorous  youth.  At  mid-day  it  acquires  a  strong  and  lofty 
attitude;  it  basks  for  an  hour  in  the  beams  of  prosperity^ 
and  drinks  deep  the  inebriating  draughts  of  luxury  and  plea- 
sure. And  now  its  beauty  fades ;  its  strength  decays ;  its 
glory  perishes ;  and  the  declining,  day  hastens  a  night  of 
storms,  and  clouds,  and  everlasting  darkness.  .. 

%  The  nations  of  men  resemble  the  perpetually  rolling 
%nd  conflicting  waves  of  the  ocean.    If  a  billow  rise  high. 


THE  HISTORIAJM'S  REFLECTIONS. 

it  b  but  to  sink  as  low;  if  it  dalh  its  neighboring  billow,  it 
is  but  to  be  dashed  in  its  turn ;  if  it  rage  and  foam,  it  is  but 
40  exhaust  itself  the  sooner ;  if  it  roll  tranquilly  on  the  bosom 
of  the  deep,  it  is  but  to  sink  for  ever  by  ka  own  gravity.  It 
is  thus  with  all  nations,  with  all  human  institutions,  and  with 
mil  the  noblest  inventions  and  works  of  art. 


"  The  cloud-capt  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself; 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherits,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind.*' 


,  i 


8.  And,  alas !  the  ravages  of  time,  though  rapid  and  re^^ 
•iitless,  are  too  slow  to  satisfy  the  furious  rage  of  rcsllesi 
mortals  f  They  must  share  the  empire  of  destruction.  T* 
them,  the  work  of  death  Is  most  pleasant ;  and  to  cultivate 
the  art  of  killing  and  destroying,  has  been  their  chief  pride 
vid  glory  in  all  ages,  though  while  employed  in  that  dread- 
fill  work,  they  sink  in  desMrttetijBn  themselves.  Unhappy 
children  of  men !  When  will  you  learn  to  know  and  prize 
your  true  interest  ?  When  will  you  be  convinced  of  that, 
^han  which  nothing  is  more  certain,  that  war  adds  infinitely 
to  the  number  and  weight  of  your  calamities  t  that  it  fills 
the  v/orld  with  misery,  and  clothes  all  nature  in  mourning? 
that  it  covers  your  souls  with  crimson,  inexpiable  guilt,  and 
brings  upon  you  the  vvrath  and  curse  of  Heaven  1 

4.  Is  there  to  be  no  change  in  this  tragic,  this  direful  scene 
of  blood  and  slaughter?  Shall  brotherly  love  and  cordial 
affection  never  become  universal,  and  peace  never  wave  her 
white  banner  throughout  the  earth  1  Is  there  no  durable 
institution,  founded  in  virtue,  and  permanent  as  the  eternal 
rules  of  justice  !  Is  there  no  firm  ground  of  hope  ?  no  rock, 
on  which  truth  and  reason  may  build  a  fabric,  that  shall 
never  fall  ?  Yes,  there  is  a  kingdom ;  its  foundations  were 
laid  of  old ;  its  King  is  the  God  of  heaven ;  its  law  is  perfect 
love ;  its  dominions  are  wide,  for  they  extend  to  the  wise 
and  virtuous  in  all  worlds ;  all  its  subjects  are  safe,  for  they 
are  defended  by  almighty  power ;  and  they  shall  ritie  to  eter- 
.,lial  prosperity  and  glory,  when  all  earthly  kingdoms  shall 
ftotsh  like  a  shadow  or  a  dream. 


'I 


I 


I 


870 


THE  COMMOrr  LCt. 


ft 


5.  There  is  an  unseen  hand,  which  guides  the  affain  df 
nations.  Throughout  all  their  changes  and  revolutions, 
through  the  seemingly  dark  and  troubled  chaos  of  human 
concerns,  an  almighty  Providence  overrules ;  and  all  events 
past,  present,  and  to  come,  are  employed  in  directing  and 
completing  the  destinies  of  all  creatures,  in  subserviency  to 
that  infinitely  great  and  glorious  kingdom,  which  shall  never 
be  removed. 


i- 


THE  COMMON  LOT. 

Onoe  In  the  flight  of  ages  past, 
There  liv'd  a  man ;  and  who  wa;  lie  t 

Mortal !  howe'er  thy  lot  be  cast, 
That  man  resembled  thee. 

Unknown  the  region  of  his  birth  \ 
The  land  in  which  he  died  unknown; 

His  name  b^th  perishM  from  the  earth; 
This  truth  survives  alone-— 

• 

That  joy  and  grief,  and  hope  and  fear, 
Alternate  triumph'd  in  his  breast; 

His  bliss  and  woe-^a  smile,  a  tear ; 
Oblivion  hides  the  rest.  « 

The  bounding  pulse,  the  languid  limb, 
The  changing  spirits  rise  and  fall ; 

We  know  that  these  were  felt  by  him, 
For  these  are  felt  by  all. 

He  sufferM — but  his  pangs  are  o*er ; 

EnjoyM — but  his  delights  are  fled ; 
Had  friends — his  friends  are  now  no  moie ) 

And  foes — his  foes  are  dead. 

HelovM — but  whom  he  lov*d,  the  grave 
Hath  lost  in  its  unconscious  womb ; 

O  she  was  fair — but  nought  could  save 
Her  beautv  from  the  tomb. 


se 


'^m 


!rr 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  DEITT. 

The  rolling  seasons,  day  and  night, 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars,  the  earth  and  mntti' 

Erewhile  his  portion ;  life  and  light, 
To  him  exist  in  vain. 

He  saw  whatever  thou  hast  seen, 
EncounterM  all  that  troubles  thee; 

He  was — ^whatever  thou  hast  been ; 
He  is — what  thou  shalt  be. 

The  clouds  and  sun-beams,  o'er  his  eye, 
That  once  their  shades  and  glory  threw, 

Hav<^  left  in  yonder  silent  sky. 
No  vestige  where  they  flew. 

The  annuls  of  the  human  race, 
Their  ruins,  since  the  world  began. 

Of  HIM  afford  no  other  trace 
Than  this— THERE  LIV'D  A  MAN ! 


I 

i 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  DEITY. 

O  THOU  unutterable  Potentate ! 
Through  nature's  vast  extent  sublimely  great ! 
Thy  lovely  fbrm  the  flower-decked  field  discloses, 
Thy  smiles  are  seen  in  Nature's  sunny  face  : 
Milk-colored  lilies  and  wild-blushing  roses 
Are  bright  with  thee  : — thy  voice  of  gentleness 
Speaks  in  thj  light-winged,  whispering  zephyrs,  playing 
Midst  the  young  boughs,  or  o'er  the  meadows  straying : 
Thy  breath  gives  life  to  all,  below,  above ; 
And  all  things  revel  in  thy  light  and  love. 
But  here,  on  these  gigantic  mountains,  here 
Thy  greatness,  glory,  wisdom,  strength,  and  spirit 
In  terrible  sublimity  appear  ! 
Thy  awe-imposing  voice  is  heard, — we  hear  it ! 
The  Almighty's  fearful  voice ;  attend  !  it  breaks 
The  silence,  and  in  solemn  warning  speaks : 
His  the  light  tones  that  whisper  midst  the  treet ; 
His,  his  the  whistling  of  the  busy  breeze ; 
Hit.  th"  **nrm-fhnnt\^  »«ar!!!j,  rattlinj;  round. 


379 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  IMBITT. 


* 

Whea  element  with  etement  makes  war 

Amidst  the  echoing  mountains ;  on  whose  bound, 

Whose  highest  bound,  he  drives  his  fiery  car, 

Glowing  like  molten  iron ;  or,  enshrined 

In  robes  of  darkness,  rides  upon  the  wind 

Across  the  cloudcfd  vault  of  heaven.    What  eje 

Has  not  been  dazzled  by  thy  majesty  ? 

Where  is  the  ear  that  has  not  heard  thee  speak  t 

Thou  breathest ! — forest-Hiaks  of  centuries 

Turn  their  uprooted  trunks  towards  the  skies. 

Titou  thunderest  !• — adamantine  mountains  break, 

IVenible,  and  totter;  and  apart  are  riven ! 

Thou  iightenest !  and  the  rocks  inflame ;  thy  power 

Of  fire,  to  their  metallic  bosom  driven, 

Melts  and  devours  them : — ^lo !  they  are^o  more:— 

They  pass  away,  like  wax  in  the  fierce  fame, 

Or  the  thick  mists  that  frown  upon  the  sun. 

Which  he  but  glances  at  and  they  are  gone; 

Or  like  the  sparkling  snow  upon  the  hill, 

When  noon-tide  darts  its  penetrating  beam. 

What  do  I  say  t    At  God's  almighty  will. 

The  affrighted  world  falls  headlong  from  its  sphere  I 

Planets  and  suns  and  systems  disappear  ! 

But  thy  eternal  throne — thy  palace  bright, 

Zion — stands  steadfast  in  unchanging  might; 

Zion — thy  own  peculiar  seat — thy  home ! 

But  here,  O  God !  here  is  thy  temple  too : 

lEIeaven*s  sapphire  arch  is  its  lesplendent  dome» 

Its  columns — ^trees  that  have  for  ages  stood ; 

Its  incense  is  the  flower-perfumed  dew ; 

Its  symphony — ^the  music  of  the  wood ; 

Its  ornaments — the  fairest  gems  of  spring ; 

Its  altar  is  the  stony  mountain  proud. 

Lord !  from  this  shrine  to  thy  abode  I  bring, 

Trembling,  devotion's  tribute — though, not  loud, 

Nor  pomp-accompanied :  thy  praise  I  sing. 

And  thou  wilt  deign  to  hear  the  lowly  offering. 


ran  GNOb 


'■^ 


:1       -A 


In      ^     _ 


^-^i. 


.^. 


^W* 


'I 


'^ 


> 

I.' 


\ 


< 


-m^' 
••^■1- 


